


On the Edge

by babs, Winterstar



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Child Death, M/M, Physical Disability, Torture, danielusedtobewithpaul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 48,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babs/pseuds/babs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A victim of torture and accused of being a traitor, Daniel Jackson is no longer a part of the SGC. Now, Jack O'Neill has found him and wants to bring him back. Daniel isn't sure he wants to be a part of the SGC or Jack's life any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic features graphic descriptions of torture and maiming along with the violent death of a child. It also has a Daniel who is permanently physically damaged from that torture and a past Daniel/Paul relationship. On the other hand, it's Daniel--and Daniel is strong and resilient. 
> 
> Also this fic is nearly finished although it's being put up chapter by chapter. I'm just in the process of getting everything in order and checked.

Chapter 1

Jack didn't know what he expected but of all the places he thought he might find Daniel Jackson, it wasn't this rundown neighborhood. He looked at the overflowing trash-cans, the graffiti, and the apparently abandoned buildings with plywood in place of windows and felt his heart sink. Was this what Daniel had been reduced to?

He checked the paper he held and then the number on the apartment building. He nodded and then walked into the dingy hallway, lit by one bare bulb. 

103B. Jack felt his heart sink more as he noticed the D. Ballard listed on the door.

He raised his hand and knocked hard and loud. A woman looked out two doors down, her hair mussed and a cigarette loose between scarlet-painted lips. She stared at him, her eyes had the hollow look of someone barely living. She smiled then and held up her hand. Five bucks, she mouthed. Jack shook his head and she shrugged, pullling back into her apartment as if it was his loss.

The door opened beneath his hand and Jack found himself unable to speak as he looked at Daniel for the first time in two years.

"Jack." Daniel's voice had never quite recovered its normal timbre after Velera. There was a lot of Daniel that had changed with that last disastrous mission. "What do you want?" Daniel sounded weary.

"Can't a guy look up an old friend?" Jack felt his throat tighten even as he tried to keep his tone light. 

Daniel just looked at him, and Jack made the mistake of looking away as he was confronted with that angry stare. "Yeah, that's what I figured," Daniel said, but he took two hops back on his crutches. "Come in. Don't want the neighbors to talk."

Jack followed him down a tiny hall into a room that was divided by a counter. It was surprisingly neat but then again, maybe not a surprise. 

"Sit down," Daniel told him and gestured with his chin at a beat-up wooden table with two chairs. Jack did as he was told. Daniel leaned his crutches against the counter and hopped into the miniscule kitchen. "I have milk or water," he told Jack.

"Water's fine," Jack told him. "I can..." He started to get up as Daniel filled two glasses with water.

"I can do it," Daniel told him without even turning around. 

"Yeah, sorry." Jack turned his attention to the living room. Although judging from the size of the apartment, the living room was also the bedroom and dining room. There was a threadbare couch with a pillow at one end and a blanket carefully folded over the back. Jack would bet his last dollar that it served as Daniel's bed. A small chest of drawers sat in one corner, one drawer not quite closed with a sleeve of a sweatshirt hanging out of it. There were no pictures, no decorations, only the sofa, the chest of drawers, an easy chair that looked like it had seen better days, the table and chairs at which he sat, and two shelves made of bricks and wood filled with books. It hurt to look at it.

"Here."

Daniel had come around the counter and placed one glass of water on the table. He pulled out the other chair before he hopped to the counter to retrieve his own. Daniel sat down across from Jack and took a sip of water.

"You get around pretty well," Jack said when the silence grew heavy.

Daniel shrugged. "No choice really." Daniel didn't back away from Jack's stare. "I've had plenty of practice." He shrugged and lifted the glass to his lips again.

Jack watched him. The scar that had been so livid on Daniel's face two years ago had faded from an angry puckered red to thickened shiny skin. The eyepatch, of course, was still necessary. He glanced down at Daniel's right hand resting on the table, the sight of the truncated fingers twisting his gut. At that moment he wanted to go back to Velera and kill all of them preferably with a knife and slow torture.

Daniel put down the glass and followed Jack's gaze. He lifted his right hand, closed it into a fist. "I asked you before what you want. Surely the great Jack O'Neill wouldn't deign to visit a traitor, would he?"

At that moment, Jack thought he might not know Daniel at all any longer. He had to hope that there was something of the Daniel he used to know left in the man who sat across from him. "I want you to come home. To come back to the SGC."

He didn't know what answer he expected. Maybe a vehement denial, anger, something, anything except the harsh, bitter laughter that was Daniel's response. 

"Sorry, Jack," Daniel said a moment later, his expression gone serious. "The powers that be made it perfectly clear two years ago that my days at the SGC were over, and now they want me back?" He stood, balancing on his remaining leg. "I think it's time for you to go." He grabbed his crutches.

"Daniel." Jack couldn't give up now, not when he was so close. Damn it, he didn't want to leave even if Daniel was ready to kick him out. 

"Jack." Daniel gripped the crutches tighter. Jack could see his knuckles turn white. "I don't care any more. I don't give a damn about the SGC. I'm happy here."

Jack looked around the apartment. "Yeah, I can see that."

"I didn't ask you to come here." Daniel said, his face pale, his body vibrating with tension. "When it mattered, no one from the SGC gave a damn. I was kicked out like so much trash, so forgive me if I choose to live my life here."

Jack was getting a very bad feeling in his gut. Very bad. "It's not a choice though is it?"

Daniel's swift glance away was all the answer he needed. 

"Damn it, Daniel." Jack felt like punching a wall but he feared if he put a fist on one of Daniel's walls, his hand might go through to the next apartment. "Why didn't you..."

"Don't you dare pity me." Daniel headed towards the door. "It's over, Jack. It's been nice seeing you again. Tell Sam and Teal'c hi from me." He opened the door and stood to one side. "It's better this way."

"Daniel." Jack could barely force the name past his throat. "I..."

"Goodbye, Jack." Daniel didn't offer a hand, just stood there waiting.

And Jack found himself staring at the closed door without a memory of walking through.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I wouldn't ask, Carter, if..." Jack stared out at the city skyline from his hotel room on the twentieth floor and thought of Daniel.

"I understand, sir." Carter said. "He's my friend too," she continued and he could see her chewing on her bottom lip. "I'll have the information you want by morning." She hung up and Jack stared at the cell phone as if it held the answers of the universe.

He ordered room service and pushed the plate away in disgust after two bites-it tasted like ashes in his mouth. The TV had close to two hundred channels for him to choose from and none of them held his interest. 

Daniel was right for hating him--for hating anyone associated with the SGC. When it had come down to it, Jack and the others hadn't fought long and hard enough for him, and then overnight, Daniel had disappeared as if he'd never been a part of the SGC, as if he'd never existed at all.

Jack grabbed his cell phone and dialed a familiar number. 

" 'lo?" a sleepy voice answered.

"Paul." 

"Sir? Colonel O'Neill?" 

Jack could picture Major Davis sitting up in bed and turning on a light--except, Jack reminded himself, Major Davis wasn't a major any longer, wasn't even a part of the Air Force.

"I've found him."

"Oh God." 

There was a muffled sound on the other end and Jack waited until Paul pulled himself back together. "He's...he doesn't want to come back." 

"Can you blame him?" Paul sounded bitter. Then he cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'm...God, you found him." There was another pause and when Paul spoke again, his voice was shaky. "Where? How is he? Is he..?"

"He's..." Jack looked out of his window at the lights of the city. "Daniel's always been a survivor."

Paul gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Is that the lie you tell yourself at night, sir? The same one the..." He coughed and took a deep breath. "I apologize. That was uncalled for."

"No," Jack told him. "Don't apologize. Look, it's time we move forward. The people behind this are gone. It's time Daniel got back where he belonged." 

"And if he doesn't want it? Will you force him?" 

Jack shook his head even though Paul couldn't see it. "I won't force him. I promise you."

"Where are you?" Paul asked. Jack could hear him breathing harder as if he was moving around.

"Philadelphia," Jack said. "You know there's a place for you at the SGC. We can use you."

Paul laughed again, but this time it sounded happier. "What the hell do you think I'm doing? I'm packing my bag now."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

"Damn it."

"Yes, sir." Carter sounded sad. "He's living on a disability check, but that is barely enough to meet his expenses. From what I could find, he's not receiving any other help."

"Yeah, that's quite obvious." Jack told her. He let out a long breath. "We're gonna work this out, Carter."

"Sir?" Carter's voice had that breathy quality that meant she was close to tears and trying desperately to hold them back. "Tell Daniel I love him."

"Yeah." Jack said. "I'll do that." 

He looked around the hotel room after Carter hung up and realized it was bigger than Daniel's apartment. There were so many unanswered questions as to these two missing years. "Damn it." Jack thought of Daniel alone and felt his gut twist. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to make things up to his friend, but he was damn well going to give it his best shot. There was no way in hell he was going to walk away this time.

* * * * 

Jack heard the thump of Daniel's crutches before he saw him. He straightened from his position of leaning against the wall outside Daniel's apartment.

Daniel stopped in front of him. "I thought I told you good-bye." Daniel said. "In case you didn't understand last night? Good-bye, Jack." He used his key to open the door to his apartment.  "Leave me alone."

Daniel wasn't quite fast enough to close the door in Jack's face, not on crutches and hampered with a backpack.

"Why?" Jack asked him when Daniel dumped the backpack on the table and turned to face him. "Why are you living like this?"

Daniel stared at him. His mouth twisted into a parody of a smile. "Some of us don't have choices left to us." 

"You have choices," Jack said. 

"Don't pretend you're stupid," Daniel told him. Jack could see his arms trembling. Whether it was from anger or fatigue, Jack wasn't sure.

"I'm not." Jack took a step towards Daniel, intending to urge Daniel to sit down before he fell down. It was a mistake.

Daniel hopped back, and his crutch caught on the rung of the chair. He made a valiant effort to stay upright but it was too late. His balance undone, Daniel fell backwards with a crash.

"Damn it." Jack rushed towards him. Daniel looked up at him with dazed eyes and scrambled awkwardly backwards  until he was up against the counter.

"Stay away from me." Daniel pushed out at Jack.

"Damn it, Daniel, you're bleeding."

Daniel frowned and then touched fingers to his head. "Huh."

"Yeah, huh." Jack stepped over Daniel's outstretched leg and grabbed some paper towels from near the sink.  He wet them and returned to Daniel's side, knelt down on the floor beside his former best friend.

Daniel startled when Jack's hand came towards him on his blind side. 

"Okay, it's okay," Jack said. He pressed the towels to the cut on the side of Daniel's head.  "You might need some stitches."

"I'll be fine," Daniel said and then hissed as Jack pressed a bit harder.

Jack ground his teeth and bit back the words he wanted to say.

They sat that way for a bit, the only noise the sound of a police siren in the distance. 

"I think it's stopped," Jack finally said. He took the towels away carefully, ready to return the pressure if the bleeding hadn't stopped. He peered at the cut--not very large at all. "Looks okay."

"Told you." Daniel didn't look at him, but he reached out when Jack went to throw the towels away.

Jack looked down at the hand on his forearm. Daniel's right hand--the one the Velerans had...no, he wasn't going to go there.

"...clean my hands?" 

Jack pulled back to the present and realized what Daniel had asked. He handed Daniel a wet papertowel and watched as Daniel wiped his hands.

Daniel grabbed for his crutch and put another hand on the chair. 

"You need some help?" Jack winced as he said the words. This Daniel wasn't about to accept help. Jack was sure of it. By the time, he'd asked, Daniel was on his feet, his foot, Jack corrected.

Daniel was still shaking a bit and Jack was sure it wasn't anger causing it.

"Just leave, Jack. Please." Daniel sat down on one of the chairs at the table as if he could no longer stand.

"They're gone," Jack said then. He heard Daniel's sharp intake of breath and carefully kept his eyes up and away from Daniel. "The ones who did...they're gone."

"They'll never be gone."

Jack knew that tone of voice--the voice of a man without hope, a man teetering perilously close to the edge. If he failed in this task, in drawing Daniel back, Jack knew he'd never see his friend again. Daniel couldn't continue to live this way, Jack thought as he gave his friend an assessing gaze. He was too thin--thinner than Jack could remember ever seeing him and he looked haunted, Daniel the orginal bounce-back kid hadn't bounced this time. Jack was afraid. Now that he'd found Daniel again, there was no way he wanted to lose him. And lose him he would, he had no doubt. Daniel might not take a gun to his head but Jack knew a man committing slow suicide when he saw it. He'd seen those same haunted eyes staring back at him from a mirror. He knew he had to tread softly. First things first, he told himself.

"Look, at least let me take you for lunch." Jack checked his watch. "Dinner."

Daniel looked at him, narrowed his eye in a way that was very reminsicent of the Daniel of old. ""The catch?"

Jack threw up his hands. "There is none. I promise I won't even talk about you coming back with me." He waited.

Time stretched but finally Daniel gave a quick, sharp nod, stood, and grabbed his crutches. "Let's go before I regret this."

It wasn't much, Jack knew, but it was a start, a baby step. If that was all he could have, he'd take it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

Daniel remained silent throughout the drive back to Jack's hotel. He remained silent as he followed Jack into the lobby.

"Room service okay with you?" Jack asked. 

"You promised," Daniel said in a quiet voice that nevertheless was pure steel.

Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. And I don't think a t-shirt and jeans are going to meet the dress code in the restaurant."

"We could have just gone to a diner." Jack saw Daniel tighten his grip on his crutches.

"Yeah. We could have." Jack went towards the bank of elevators and trusted Daniel to follow. "But we didn't."

He hoped they'd have the elevator to themselves but a young couple and then a family with two small children got in after them.

Jack stood next to Daniel, doing his best to make sure he didn't touch the other man. He could hear Daniel's breathing quicken, surprised he could still tune in that well after two long years apart. Daniel kept his head down and Jack was all too aware of the surreptitious stares of the others sharing the elevator with them. 

"Mom, what happened to his leg?" the little girl's voice was loud in the silence. Her mother picked the little girl up and gave Daniel an apologetic smile.

"Are you a pirate?" the little girl said as she caught sight of Daniel's eyepatch and scar.

"No. Not a pirate." Daniel said softly. "Just someone who...it was an accident."

"Maybe if they find your leg, they can put it back," the little girl told him with all solemnity. "I hope they find it for you."

"Thank you," Daniel said and gave her a tiny smile. Jack felt his heart thump just a little more strongly.

The elevator cleared at the next floor and Daniel visibly sagged when he and Jack were alone.

"That happen a lot?" Jack asked him.

"No."

"I'm not the enemy," Jack said when he couldn't stand the growing silence.

Daniel didn't answer. 

Jack set his jaw and watched the numbers of the passing floors light up.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 

Despite having a business suite in the hotel, despite it being larger than the apartment Daniel had been living in for God knew how long,  Jack thought the room still seemed way too small. Small and cold. It was taking all of Jack's admittedly growing thin self-control to just not reach across the table and shake some sense into Daniel. He'd promised he wouldn't speak of Daniel coming back with him, and he didn't. But there was no other conversation. He'd tried. He'd told Daniel that Carter and Teal'c were okay, that they missed him, but he'd gotten a warning glare and decided it was better to just shut up and try to follow Daniel's lead. The problem? Daniel wasn't giving the slightest clue of what he wanted. Jack had to force himself to swallow each bite of the excellent food. Daniel ate with single-minded determination, as if he wasn't quite sure he'd ever get a meal like this again.

"Why?" Daniel put down his fork and looked at Jack.

"What?" Jack frowned.

"Why this?" Daniel gestured around the room. "Why now?"

Jack couldn't sit still any longer. He got up and began to pace. "We thought you were dead. All the trails we followed just ended. There was no trace of anyone named Daniel Jackson." He stood by the window staring out at the city lights. "Don't you think we, I, wanted you back? That we fought for you?"

The silence gave Jack his answer.

There was a knock on the door and Jack went to see who was there without looking at Daniel. What the hell he thought as he opened the door. Daniel already hated him, what was a little more?

* * * * 

"Daniel."

Jack stepped to the side as Paul Davis entered the suite. He still couldn't get used to seeing Paul in civilian clothes.

Shit. Maybe this had been a tactical error. Daniel was standing, his hands flat on the table, his face gone white.

"Daniel." Paul was already halfway across the room before Jack could say a word.

He embraced Daniel, heedless of Daniel's stiff body language.

"Oh God," he said. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm not." Daniel finally said. 

"Paul." Jack pulled a chair out and placed a hand on Paul's shoulder. "Maybe you should sit."

Daniel gave Jack what could have been interpreted as a look of gratitude.

Paul nodded and sat down. He ducked his head and wiped his eyes while Jack and Daniel looked the other way.

"Daniel," he said again quietly. 

"What's left of me." 

"You know I've thought of this day for close to two years," Paul said," and I had all sorts of words planned and can you believe it? They've all gone straight out of my head."

"Jack didn't tell me you were coming." Daniel was polite but distant.

Paul gave a small laugh. "I don't think he knew himself. I mean, I told him I was packing a bag, but..." He spread his hands out to the side and shrugged. He leaned in closer to Daniel and placed a hand on Daniel's good leg. "I've missed you."

Daniel leaned back in his chair away from Paul. Jack felt as if he shouldn't even be watching but couldn't bring himself to walk away. He kept waiting for the inevitable explosion from Daniel, the same anger and bitterness he'd been subjected to, but it didn't happen. Daniel leaned back, Paul leaned forward. Could the man have been any more obvious?

Jack cleared his throat. "I'll just leave you two alone."

Paul didn't even turn to look at him, but Daniel gave him a look that almost could have been interpreted as panic.

"Where are you going to go?"

Jack shrugged. "I'll be back in a little while. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He waggled his fingers at them and left. He stood against the closed door for a moment, fighting down the memories of Paul's reaction when they were told Daniel Jackson, traitor to his own planet, had committed suicide. He needed to get out, get away from the pain it still caused him.

* * * * 

"God." Paul said. "God, Danny. I missed you so much." 

Daniel looked at the man who'd been his lover and felt his gut twist. Paul's pain was real, palpable and then he remembered what Paul had first said. "You thought I was dead."

"They said you..." Paul paused a moment, ducked his head before he looked up at Daniel. "They said you killed yourself."

"And you believed it." Daniel hated the way his own voice sounded, flat, unemotional, but he'd had two years of practice. It was easier to not feel any longer. "You knew me, Paul. Did you think I'd do something like that?"

Paul's silence gave him his answer.

"Maybe you should go," Daniel told him. It was easier this way. He didn't want to be involved with anyone ever again. He was tired of all of it. 

"No," Paul said, his tone sharp. 

Daniel looked at him in surprise. Paul, soft-spoken Paul who had never started an argument in the short time the two of them had been together. "No?"

"You heard me. No, Daniel. No, I won't leave. And yes, you are going to hear me out."

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. 

"The Daniel I knew before Velera would have never considered ending his own life. The Daniel that came back? The Daniel that was sent to solitary confinement? Yes, I could have seen that Daniel committing suicide."

"They told you lies, and you, them," Daniel couldn't help gesturing towards the door, "believed them." He thought he'd gotten over the sense of betrayal by all those he'd held dear. The way his gut burned told him he hadn't. Not by a long shot.

He didn't expect Paul's response. "Yeah. Yeah, we did, Daniel. We fucked up. All of us. Do you think that when Colonel O'Neill discovered the truth, he didn't do everything in his power to find you? Do you think he wasn't fighting to clear your name from the moment you came back? To make sure the true traitors were punished?" Paul leaned further into Daniel's body space. "I fucking left the Air Force with a dishonorable discharge, and I'd do it all over again because you were, you are worth it."

Daniel felt his gut twist even harder. "Dishonorable discharge?"

"You think you and SG-11 were the only casualites of the debacle on Velera?" Paul's voice lowered to nearly a whisper. He jabbed Daniel in the chest with his index finger. "You have good friends, you always have. It's time to go home where you belong."

"I'm sorry," Daniel said to him, meaning the discharge.

Paul shook his head. "I love you, Daniel. I truly do, but sometimes you get your head so far up your ass you can't see the truth." He leaned back and Daniel noticed for the first time the gleam of gold on Paul's ring finger.

"You're married?" He and Paul had called their relationship off two months before the mission to Velera, but he hadn't pictured Paul getting married ever. He felt a pang of sadness for what might have been.

Paul smiled and twisted the ring, a new habit Daniel was sure of it. "I moved to Massachusetts, Cape Cod to be exact. His name is Thomas."

"Thomas." Daniel felt his lips quirk up in a smile.

"It's legal there," Paul reminded him. "I was a mess after...everything...and my parents had a summer cottage I only ever used as a rental property. I thought maybe I'd find...I didn't know what."

"And you found Thomas." Daniel felt the knot in his stomach untwist just a little bit at Paul's obvious contentment.

"He's an artist." Paul laughed and Daniel closed his eye against it. He remembered that laugh so very well. "Yeah, I know. We probably fit every stereotypical image of the gay couple perfectly."

"Are you happy?" Daniel asked. He thought he already knew the answer.

Paul reached out and pulled Daniel into a hug, the first hug Daniel could remember in over two years. "Yeah, Daniel, I am. I'm very very happy." Paul's voice caught. "Go home, Danny. You belong at the SGC. More than anyone else, you belong there."

Daniel pulled away first and looked at Paul. His former lover looked healthy and happy and well, content. He was glad. Paul deserved it. 

"I mean it," Paul told him. He touched the ruined remains of Daniel's right leg without hesitation. "This doesn't define you, nor does your hand or your missing eye or the scars. If you think it matters to Jack O'Neill or anyone else, you're very wrong. You've always been a bright guy. Put your brain to work and figure it out." 

Daniel stared at him, not wanting to let himself believe what Paul was saying. He wasn't sure what that slightly fluttery feeling meant. "I'll..." He clenched his mangled hand into a fist. "I'll think about it."

Paul nodded. "Yeah." He stood up and waited while Daniel did the same. "If you find you can't, you can come up to Cape Cod. There's an extra cottage on the property you can use until you get your head straightened out." 

Daniel looked at the floor, unable to bear the compassion, not pity, it would never have been pity with Paul, he saw in Paul's eyes. Paul didn't ask for permission, Daniel noticed, as he was drawn into another hug. And for the first time in two long years, Daniel allowed himself to hug another person back. He lowered his head to Paul's shoulder, breathed in the once-familiar scent of aftershave, and swore he would just allow himself this brief bit of human contact. 

They pulled apart after a bit. Paul cleared his throat and then looked up at Daniel, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Remember what I said. It's time to start living again, Danny." He kissed Daniel on his cheek. "Thom and I will always be there for you if you need us." He stepped back as there was a quiet knock on the door. "Be happy."

"It's too much," Daniel whispered. The food he'd eaten earlier now felt like a lump of lead in his belly and he sincerely hoped he wasn't going to puke all over the nice expensive carpet.

"Give it a chance." Paul told him, with a tone of supreme assurance that everything would turn out alright in the end. Daniel wished he could believe it.

"Hey, I brought back some coffee for everyone," Jack said. He held up a cardboard container holding three cups.

Paul smiled. "I've got to get going, sir. I have to catch the next train back to Boston." He laid a small business card on the table. "Remember what I said, Daniel. I meant every word."

Daniel nodded and watched Paul walk out of the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jack cleared his throat when the silence after Paul's departure grew too long.

"Better drink up," he said and pushed a cup of coffee towards Daniel. 

He didn't know if the offering would be accepted and relaxed when Daniel took the cup and pulled off the lid.

"Huh," he said after he took a mouthful of it without even blowing on it.

"Huh?" Jack asked, after taking a sip of his own. God, he hated this fancy-schmancy stuff-it always tasted burnt, which was saying something considering the years he'd spent drinking coffee at the SGC. 

"You remembered." Daniel looked down at his cup as if it held a secret.

Jack frowned and then Daniel sighed and looked at him. "Cream, no sugar."

"I watched you drink coffee for eight years--it kinda stuck in my mind." Jack told him.

"Yeah." Daniel's gaze skittered around the room then, not ever settling on Jack. He began to tap the fingers of his left hand, something Jack had never seen him do before. But then again, this wasn't really the Daniel he remembered at all. 

"Dan..."

"Ja..."

Jack gestured for Daniel to go first at the same time Daniel made the gesture for Jack to go ahead.

Jack leaned forward. "I meant what I said. No pressure."

"Why don't we just get everything out of the way?" Daniel said. "You know, you tell me why it's so important I go back with you, and I tell you no, again."

Damn it. Trust Daniel to reduce all of it to that. "Is that rat-hole the place you want to spend the rest of your life? Is this what you really want?" 

Okay, maybe that had been a mistake. Daniel's mouth tightened. "What I wanted stopped mattering two years ago." He pointed at his leg. "Do you think I ever wanted this? Do you think I like being stared at whenever I go out in public?"

"Surely you had therapy, medical..."

Daniel let out a bitter laugh. "Here's a pair of crutches and don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

"I told you the ones responsible are gone." Jack said. He didn't want to think about the pain Daniel had gone through or what had taken the fight out of his friend.

"Yeah. I heard that the first three times you told me." Daniel rubbed at his forehead with his right hand. Jack looked at the stumps remaining where once long fingers had been and felt his heart die a little more.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

 

Daniel locked the door behind him as he entered his apartment. Jack hadn't followed him home, thank God for small favors. His stomach twisted at the memories of the evening and then settled into familiar, comfortable anger.

How dare Jack O'Neill show up here--how dare he even think of offering Daniel a chance to go back. How dare he try to upset Daniel's hard-won peace.  Daniel dropped down onto the sofa, his crutches clattering to the floor. He leaned forward, clutched at his abdomen. He bit his lip. No, he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. He concentrated on taking a few deep breaths. 

 Damn Jack, damn it all to hell. His thigh spasmed and Daniel clutched at it, digging his fingers into the muscle, trying to counteract pain with more pain. Jack would be back in the morning--of that, Daniel had no doubt. Well, Jack was going to have a surprise when he showed up, Daniel decided. He'd leave. Start over somewhere else. He retrieved his crutches and stood up. His backpack lay on the counter and he grabbed it. He had little to pack. Next to nothing, in fact. A few pairs of jeans and shirts, and all his underwear. He pulled a small box out of the drawer of the battered end table. Thirty eight bucks. He wondered how far that would take him from Philadelphia. No matter, it would be a start.

He didn't look back as he closed the door behind him.

"D?"

"Hey Scarlett," Daniel said. 

She took a drag on her cigarette, the bright red lipstick she always wore, staining the paper.  "You leavin'?"

"Yeah." He handed her the key. "You're welcome to whatever's in there. You know, if you want it." 

"This got something to do with that gray haired guy here earlier?"

Daniel looked away from her. 

"He botherin' you? You want him outta the way?"

"No," Daniel said quickly. "He's, he was a friend of mine from way back. Just...it's better this way."

He was painfully aware of Scarlett's scrutiny. "You keep tellin' yourself that, D, and maybe you'll start believin' it." She dropped the cigarette on the hallway floor and ground it out underneath her high heel. "Where you headed?"

"I don't know," Daniel said. "You know where thirty eight bucks can take you?"

"Not far enough, hon, not for whatever you're running from." She pulled some bills from her little purse. "Here." She held them out.

Daniel shook his head. "I can't take that..."

She tucked it into his jeans pocket. "Yeah, you can. It's not much. I'll go with you as far as the bus stop." She smiled and pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. "What you want me to tell your guy when he shows up again?"

"The truth. He'd figure it out anyway." Daniel made his way carefully down the stairs.

"The truth ain't much," Scarlett said.

"I know. But it's enough." Daniel told her. The air was hot and humid and he could tell it was going to storm. He and Scarlett made their way to the end of the block.

She sat beside him, waiting, lit up another cigarette and offered one to him. Daniel shook his head and hoped the city bus would come soon. His shirt stuck to his skin and he could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck. They didn't talk, just sat in silence in the oppressive heat. 

"Good luck, D." Scarlett said when they saw the lights of the bus in the next block. "You be careful."

"You too," he told her and then got on the bus. She was gone by the time he sat down and looked out the window. He realized he didn't have a plan beyond getting to the bus station terminal--he'd decide where to go from here when he got there. He just didn't know if he could get far enough away from the memories that haunted him. Maybe he'd be running the rest of his life.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

The spatter of rain on the window caught his attention. Daniel watched the droplets of rain run into rivers down the bus window, watched it smear as the bus picked up speed. Rain. He thought of rain as marking important days in his life. His parents died in New York on a cold and rainy day. He met Catherine Langford during a down pour. Then there was Velera; they came for him as the rain wet his cheeks. The alley was small and narrow, with no escape. He didn’t know the city well enough and the members of SG11 had long been lost to him. Getting to safety, getting back to the Stargate had been his main goal. 

 

Velera. Everything changed when he stepped through the Stargate with SG11. He recalled standing on the ramp looking up at the glimmering surface of the wormhole. For those moments, Daniel was lost in the shimmer, the subtle oscillations. He wanted to get lost, to focus on something other than the events of those last few weeks. But the memories, so sharp and real tinged with the smell of blood, contaminated his waking and sleeping thoughts. A flash of Janet’s lifeless body in his arms insinuated itself on his study of the wormhole. He broke free of it, followed SG11 up the ramp. All he wanted was to forget, all he wanted was the darkness to take him. He’d glanced back toward the gateroom, thinking of his own team scattered now. The silence, he’d said goodbye and stepped through the Stargate.

 

Had he been on some kind of suicide mission? Had he intended for it to all go so wrong? Maybe he had. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Daniel remembered Jack telling him to find something to do, keep busy for a while. Jack went up to Minnesota to recuperate from his wound, Sam had been called to Area 51 for some hot new research, and Teal’c needed to check in with the Jaffa rebellion. He’d been left at odds, with only his memories as company.

 

No, but in that alley, as the auto-bots swarmed over him like massive killer bees, he hadn’t cared. His quest for the gate over, Daniel surrendered. Let the mechanical police overtake him, let them strip him, let them manacle him. He stood, still as the rain poured over him, as it mixed with his tears. He quietly said his apologies to his team, to Paul as they dragged him away. He knew it was over as the robots tossed him into the transport container, like some piece of cargo. It felt like a coffin and some part of him laughed. He’d died enough times; he supposed it was only fitting that he get to know what it felt like to be in a coffin.

 

"Doctor Daniel Jackson, upon order to the High Council of Velera, you have been charged with spying for the enemy, aiding and giving comfort to the enemy, and treason against your own world," one of the auto-bots reported in a voice devoid of emotion. "You have been found guilty of these charges. As such you will be sentenced to imprisonment and re-adjustment."

 

His mind kicked into gear at the mention of re-adjustment. Struggling against his bonds, he screamed and tugged. The coffin transport device only tightened his bonds, cutting the skin and tearing away at his flesh. "Damn it, damn it, when is it a crime to help children?"

 

"Your world will be informed of your status and will have no communication with you until your re-adjustment is completed satisfactorily." 

"No, no! You can’t charge me with treason against my own world. You have no right." Daniel yelled, the blood pumping in his brain. His heart seemed to rip a whole in his chest. "For God’s sakes, he was only a little boy."

 

"He was an enemy of the state," the auto-bot said and the lid to the coffin slammed down.

 

Daniel jolted awake. His breath came in short pants, and he scrubbed his hands through his hair. Clenching his chest, he leaned back into the seat. The woman across from him offered him a juice box; he shook his head. She gave him a soft smile and went back to taking care of her toddler. 

 

He blinked his eye several times, trying to clear his head. He tried to squeeze out the memory of the transport coffin. But it wasn’t the worst memory, there were much worse than the coffin. Leaning his chin in his hand, he stared out at the rain and whispered, "Much, much worse."

 

The rain continued throughout the trip. As the bus made its way through the hills of northern New York, Daniel leaned back away from the drizzle, the water streaks on the window. He struggled to get up, the crutches made it nearly impossible to make his way to the toilet down the narrow aisle. Instead of using them, he braced himself against each row of seats and hopped the short distance to the closet toilet. He pulled the door open and swung himself inside. Sighing, he took a moment before he relieved himself, washed and made his way back to his seat. He collapsed back into his seat, thankful the seat next to his was empty. He gritted his teeth as the pain pulsated through his thigh. 

 

Damn. He rocked a bit in the seat, waiting for the stabbing pain to cease. Phantom pain, my ass, he thought. Grabbing hold of his thigh, Daniel massaged the muscles to ease away the misery. As he felt his leg, the images of their hands on him flashed in fragmented images across his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to turn away from the memory, but he couldn’t. It was there, fresh and open, like a seeping wound.

 

"Re-adjustment will assist you, Doctor Jackson." The voices still echoed in his head. 

 

He leaned back in the seat, the perspiration wetting his forehead, his upper lip. It never went away, those images, the pain. He’d pored over what happened, why it happened again and again. How could he have walked away? 

In the end, it didn’t matter that the Velerians had important Ancient technology. Technology they had exploited. They were more advanced technologically than any nation on Earth due to their understanding of an Ancient repository they’d uncovered 50 years or so ago.

 

Advanced or not, Daniel turned his back on them and effectively shut off any possible negotiations with Earth when he helped an eight year old boy escape from custody. He’d recruited SG11 to assist in the rescue of the boy. He squeezed his eyes closed; he recalled telling them about the boy. He gave them the story they needed to know in order to get them to help. He hadn’t told them the whole story.

 

The story about how the boy was part of a resistance movement, but what the Velerian government liked to call a local terrorist organization. How the boy had been accused of planting a roadside bomb for the organization which blew up an official motorcade, killing seven and injuring 15. Daniel knew differently, understood the boy was a pawn to the official government. They wanted to make sure the resistance movement, all layers, all members whether they were adult or children were vilified and hated by the upper class and they weren't afraid to kill their own to push that agenda.

It was true. What he had told SG11. 

He gripped his leg as it spasmed again. The Velerians were an egotistical society, with a caste system reminiscent of apartheid. The discovery of the Ancient repository had not benefited the whole of the society. It had caused inequities. There were poor tent communities living on the outskirts of the fabulous glass city with skyscrapers that reached into the clouds. People living off of the refuse of those better off. Children dug through piles of garbage looking for anything to trade, anything to eat. Daniel had reported all of these observations back to the SGC with little response. They would look into it, just find information about the Lost City. Just get as much information as possible and send it back. Get access to the repository.

 

Greed.

 

He needed rest. He needed to stop thinking about it. Rubbing his leg, Daniel tried to ignore the memories. How the Velerians bastardized what they learned from the Ancients was clear and obvious anytime Daniel looked at his mutilated body. He hissed, as a fresh pain from his burned nerves echoed through his thigh. Nerve regenerators connected to healthy nerve endings had caused fire to shoot into his calf. Injectors used to help heal wounds were used to directly deliver flesh eating genetically programmed bacteria. 

 

They’d told him that once he accepted the re-adjustment they would be able to use the Ancient technology to save his leg. He watched, writhing with the pain, as his leg turned black with gangrene. His tormentors put a cuff on his leg just above his knee. The cuff would limit the gangrene to his knee and below. It was all so surgical, so professional as they described the process. He would suffer as those who lost loved ones had suffered. 

 

Yet watching his leg rot, watching the black streak his leg up to the cuff as if he were a dog and they were docking his tail, wasn't the worst.

 

Daniel shivered.

His eye was the worst. Shaking he raised a hand to his eye patch. God. His meager lunch threatened to reappear. Should he have just agreed? Should he have told them they were right? It wasn’t his business, in the end. If they took children into custody for helping what they called a terrorist organization and put them through re-adjustment or worse, what business was it of his?

 

But the boy was eight. Alone in the world because his parents had died of disease in the shanty town they lived in on the outskirts of luxury and opulence. Daniel didn’t agree with the organization’s tactics, but he couldn’t deny the facts. The forgotten caste was Velera’s ugly truth. No one but the resistance organization called the Frendari stepped in to take care of the boy. He was alone, afraid and an orphan.

 

Daniel had no choice but to help him. Who else would?

 

He covered his face with his disfigured hand. What did it matter in the end? He gulped back the sob. They’d killed the boy all the same.  
Killed the boy, in front of Daniel when he refused to accept their terms of readjustment. It took all his willpower not to hyperventilate as he always did when he thought about the boy, the outcome. He pushed back into the seat, gripped the armrests and clenched his teeth. 

 

God damn them, God damn the Velerians and all of the SGC.

 

But most of all Daniel damned himself, he was to blame for it all. His resentment, his bitterness meant nothing. He didn’t care how the SGC treated him, how his country abandoned him. He deserved to suffer.


	9. Chapter 8.2

Scarlett watched as the tall gray-haired guy from the day before knocked on Daniel's door. She didn't say anything--didn't tell him Daniel was gone from the place. She'd been told to tell the truth, but she didn't think it was necessary to seek the man out to tell it to him.

"Daniel," the man called and rapped harder. 

Toby, Daniel's neighbor two doors down the other way from Scarlett's apartment yelled a "shut the fuck up" as the gray-haired man continued to knock and yell Daniel's name. He finally stopped and rested his palm flat against the door. He looked suddenly tired and much older.

"He's gone," Scarlett said, surprising herself. She walked down the hall to him.

"Gone?" The man turned to face her--his eyes looked sad. Sad as Daniel's had the night before.

"Yeah." Scarlett shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know where."

"Damn it, Daniel," the man muttered. He looked at her, assessing, and Scarlett returned his brown-eyed stare with one of her own. "When did he leave?"

Scarlett twitched her fingers. She wished she had a cigarette. "Why you wanna know?"

The man rubbed a hand over his short-cropped hair. "He's my friend."

"Funny you never showed up before. No one ever did." Scarlett scoffed.

A fleeting expression of what, sadness? anger? regret? passed over the man's face before he looked at her as impassively as before. 

She didn't know what made her say it but say it she did. She dug in her jeans pocket and pulled out the key Daniel had given her the night before. "Here." She held it out to him. "D said I could take what I wanted."

"D," the man repeated.

"Yeah. D. You know, Daniel Ballard." Scarlett shrugged again. Damn, she needed a cigarette and maybe even a shot or two of tequila. "Said I was to tell you the truth."

"About what?" He opened the door and walked into Daniel's apartment. Scarlett followed him.

"About where he was goin'."

"You said you didn't know where he went."

Scarlett ran her finger over the scarred table. "Yeah. I did."

The guy got out his wallet and held out a couple of twenties to her. 

She laughed at him. "What are you? Some kinda cop?" She tilted her head and studied him more closely. "Nah. Not a cop."

"No. I told you, just a friend. It took me awhile to find him." 

She wasn't sure if the guy was really talking to her or more to himself. 

"He was taking a bus," Scarlett said then. "I walked with him to the bus stop down the street and he got on and that's it."

"You don't know where he was going after that?"

"However far eighty bucks would take him, I guess," Scarlett said. The apartment felt so empty without Daniel in it. "As far as it would get him from you." The last statement meant to hurt the gray-haired man didn't make her feel any better for saying it. His expression tightened at her words and then she knew.

"You're Jack," she blurted.

"What do you mean?" 

"He was sick about six months back--fever, cough, you know. He used to call out your name."

The man turned away from her and she turned her attention to her bright red fingernail as she traced along one of the scars on the beat-up table.

"Did he say anything," the man asked, "anything that might have given you a clue about where he was going?"

Scarlett chewed on her lower lip. "You are Jack," she repeated and she watched the back of his head as he nodded once, twice. She took a breath. "I don't know. Just wanted to get away from here. He had eighty bucks, got on the bus that would take him downtown. Probably he got a bus to somewhere from there."

"Thank you," Jack told her. "I am his friend," he said again and of that Scarlett no longer doubted. 

"Yeah," Scarlett said as he went to the door. "I know."

* * * *


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
The rain had followed him all the way up the coast. Daniel shivered as he stood at the end of the lane. He wished he could run after the small bus that had dropped him off. He didn't have a cell phone, wasn't sure if he'd have reception even if he did. And now that he'd made it to Paul's, he wasn't sure he'd be welcomed despite what Paul had said. He swayed a little and tightened his grip on his crutches. Paul wouldn't be expecting him--surely Paul had said the words only to be polite. Besides that lane looked long--too long for him to make it on crutches when he was feeling suddenly dizzy. 

A station wagon pulled up to the mailbox on the other side of the lane while Daniel was still figuring out how to make it somewhere where he could flag down a bus. 

"May I help you?" 

The man who called out the open car window wore a friendly but curious expression. His accent was most definitely that of a native New Englander. 

"I..." Daniel shook his head which he immediately regretted. "I was just..."

"Oh my God. I should have known. You're Daniel." He got out of the car and walked towards Daniel. "I'm Thom--Thomas Reilly." When Daniel just stared at him, he continued. "Paul's husband. Paul's going to kill me if I let you stand out here in the rain any longer." He opened the passenger door and gestured for Daniel to get in. "Please. You don't want to try to make it down the lane. Especially not in this weather. It's a mile and a half to the house. Paul said you might come for a visit. He's going to be so happy you're here."

"I..." Daniel felt his head start to pound nearly as hard as his heart. "I don't want to be any trouble. I didn't call or anything."

Thom made a rude noise and gestured again, this time as thunder boomed distantly.

Daniel took a deep breath and got in the car, his crutches held awkwardly. 

 

"Would you like me to put them in the back?" Thom didn't reach, didn't push.

"Yes. Thank you." He handed them to Thom who smiled at him.

For all the talking Thom had done earlier, he was silent for the drive to the house. He was nothing like Daniel had pictured. He was dressed in baggy, cut-off jeans, a tie-dyed Tshirt that proclaimed Pickled Herring which Daniel thought might be the name of a bar, and a pair of paint-smattered sneakers. His hair was a curly dark auburn, his eyes a deep brown and he was a few inches shorter than Daniel. 

"Here it is," Thom said as he pulled around a circular drive.

The house that Paul had called a summer cottage was two stories high although it didn't appear overly large. A porch wrapped around the entire house, screened in on the two sides. There was a garage but Thom didn't pull into it--there wouldn't have been room. Boards, paint cans, and other supplies covered the floor of most of it.

Thom laughed as he caught Daniel's eye. "We're, uh, renovating. At least that's what Paul optimistically calls it."

Daniel nodded and smiled because he felt it was the polite thing to do.

"There are some steps," Thom said as he brought Daniel's crutches from the back. "Are you able to..."

"It's fine," Daniel told him and then winced at how curt and un-grateful his reply had been. Thom had already gone to the back of the car again and busied himself with getting out bags of groceries. Daniel appreciated being left alone for a minute to pull himself together. He got out of the car and took a moment to steady himself. 

"Daniel?" A familiar voice called and Daniel looked up to see Paul hurrying across the drive to them. "You're here. Thank God." 

Daniel raised his eyebrows. Paul looked worried, concerned, and Daniel had no idea why.

"I just got off the phone with Jack O'Neill," Paul said, his mouth drawn into a disapproving line. "He said you'd disappeared."

"Babe," Thom said as he came back from putting the grocery bags on the porch, "It's pouring rain. I don't think this is the place to be having a conversation."

Paul gave a tight nod and stepped aside for Daniel to precede him up the few stairs on the porch.

* * * * 

Paul looked at Daniel, really looked at his former lover, as he sat on the sofa in his and Thom's living room. He'd thought Daniel looked beyond weary when he'd seen him in Philadelphia, but he'd been wrong. Daniel was paler than he should be, his expression, hollow and shell-shocked. Maybe it was exhaustion--Paul wasn't sure. He was only sure he didn't like seeing Daniel this way. Daniel started to shiver, the tremors nearly imperceptible, and his eye went blank. Paul wondered if Daniel was having a seizure.

"Thom," he called urgently, relieved when Thom hurried in from the kitchen. "Get me some blankets and make some tea or something."

Thom took one look at Daniel and patted Paul's shoulder. Paul knelt before Daniel, not touching, not sure if it was safe to touch.

"Daniel?" he asked softly, but Daniel didn't answer.

Flashback, Paul thought although he couldn't be sure. His own dreams about Velera were nightmares of which he could always recall every single detail. And he'd at least had Thom to hold him for the aftermath, when he'd wept for the man he thought lost. "We're just going to sit here a bit. No hurry," Paul started to talk in a low soothing voice. "You're going to love the view from the back porch. Maybe even the views from the side porch. Thom and I will open up the other cottage, but it'll have to air out for a day or so. It was closed up all winter and spring. I think you'll like it. It has a better view of the ocean than this house." Paul noticed Thom  from the corner of his eye. 

"No!" he yelled as Thom bent to wrap a blanket over Daniel's shoulders.  Thom's touch was electric and Daniel had Thom on the floor in an instant,  his right arm tight over Thom's neck. His husband gasped for air, as he scrabbled awkwardly at Daniel's grip. It was obvious that Daniel meant to kill--it was just as obvious that Daniel was lost somewhere far from a cottage on Cape Cod. Paul got behind Daniel and wrapped his arms around Daniel's chest. He pulled, attempted to get Daniel off balance. Thom's hands hit both of them, and he felt Daniel's glasses get knocked off his face. 

"Let go, c'mon, Daniel. Damn it." Nearly breathless with effort, Paul finally succeeded, or maybe Daniel was coming out of whatever it was because they fell backwards together. Daniel may have been missing a leg and thinner than Paul ever remembered, but he was still strong. Daniel shivered in his arms as Paul eased them to a sitting position.

"You okay, honey?" he asked Thom who was also sitting up. 

Thom nodded and rubbed at his throat. "Fine," he said, panting. "What? I didn't mean to hurt him."

"It's okay. It's okay," Paul said, over and over--to Thom, to Daniel who perhaps needed it more. He accepted the blanket Thom handed him and wrapped it around Daniel. "Some tea?" He looked up at Thom. "Sugary." 

His eyes wide, Thom nodded once more and got to his feet. He watched him go and knew exactly why he loved the man enough to marry him. Thom accepted this strange situation with no questions--with total trust in Paul. 

"Shh. Shh," he whispered and stroked Daniel's hair while small tremors rocked Daniel's body. He still didn't know if Daniel was back with them. Daniel tilted his head back onto Paul's shoulder and Paul looked down at the face he thought he'd never see again. Daniel's eyes were closed--the eyepatch had been torn in Thom's struggles to free himself and the right lid sagged over the empty socket--and he was hard-breathing. "Shh." He stroked Daniel's hair back from his forehead, not sure if the heat he felt was from a fever or exertion. 

Thom came back a few minutes later and handed Paul a mug. "Lots of sugar," he said. 

"Thomas?" Daniel sounded confused and then looked down at the mug. "Paul? What? Why are we on the floor?"  
No, no, no, no.

 

He slid down the bathroom door, away from Paul, away from Thom.

 

God, oh God. What did he just do? What just happened?

 

Daniel had whispered his excuses and asked for directions to the bathroom. He escaped without another word, without an apology to Thom. He lifted his hand to cover his face and stopped. The stumps, the fingers looked like a cruel mockery of a human hand, his hand. He slammed his hand down, curling what was left of his fingers on the cool tile. 

 

He hated his hand, his leg, his eye. Glancing up, Daniel realized there was only a hole above the sink, no mirror. In a small way he was grateful. He never liked looking in the mirror, seeing the scars, the memories lurking like broken reflections. Even as he stared at the beams in the hole in the wall, the images rose up to greet him.

 

They called him his trainer. He smirked a little, recalling as the man entered his cell. The man shuffled into the small room, laid his case on the table and stared down at Daniel with a nearly paternal gaze. His eyes though were dead to Daniel’s suffering.

 

"Now, shall we start your readjustment, Doctor Jackson." It was phrased as a question, but it was clearly a statement laced with a threat.

 

"Many have tried, none have succeeded," he managed to spit out. The rope tied around his neck tightened as he strained against his restraints. They’d tied him in a manner that reminded him of a Mafia style torture. He was kneeling, his hands tied behind him. The rope wound its way around his wrists to his ankles and up to loop in a noose around his neck. If he dared to move, if he fell over in exhaustion, the rope would snap against the stress and essentially strangle him.

 

The man surveyed Daniel, walking around him as if he assessed his prey. "You will call me Trainer. I have no other name to you. You will depend on me for everything. If you want to eat, if you wish to drink, if you need to piss, you can do nothing without my permission. If you fail to gain my permission, my approval of your behavior you will be punished."

 

He stopped in front of Daniel. "It is simple Doctor Jackson. I am sure you understand the training technique of behavior adjustment. You perform well, you will be rewarded. You perform poorly, you will be punished."

 

Daniel said nothing in return, as he focused on relaxing his muscles. His tendons screamed for release, his knees felt like jelly. He knew after sixteen hours of being tied he was near the end. His body shook with the stress. He had been tethered like this since they arrested him. 

 

"Do you understand, Doctor Jackson?"

 

He turned his face away.

 

"I will give you one more chance, Doctor Jackson, since this is your first day. Trainers must be somewhat understanding to their charges during the first hours." The trainer leaned down forcing Daniel to stare into his dead eyes. "Do you understand, Doctor Jackson?" 

 

His hand wrapped around the noose tugging it. Daniel opened his mouth, no words came out. The rope burned against his flesh, digging in, squeezing.

 

"Do you understand, Doctor Jackson?"

 

With no other opinion, Daniel nodded and the rope constricted further. The world narrowed, the pitiful light in his cell dimmed and pulsated all at the same time. He collapsed to the floor, the rope at full tension. Suddenly, he took a breath without fighting for it. His torturer stood over him, knife in hand as he freed Daniel.

 

As the man sawed away at the ropes, Daniel remained impassive, calm, quiet. Inwardly his heart hammered in his chest, making it difficult to hear the man discuss his readjustment plan. The last of the rope fell away and Daniel leapt at the man, struggling for his knife and seizing him by the throat. Instantly, three other men were in the cell pulling Daniel off the trainer. Auto-bots buzzed into the cell, clamping him to the floor, spread eagle. 

 

"Get me the cuff," the trainer said.

 

"Sir?" One of the guards asked.

 

"The cuff." The trainer pointed to his bag. 

 

The guard hesitated. "But sir, the cuff already? We usually wait on that for at least two weeks."

 

The Trainer glared at the guard. "Who is the expert here? Who?" He hissed. "Tell me, when did you become an expert in readjustment, Carl?" The Trainer waved to the door and several more auto-bots flew into the cell. "Perhaps, Carl, you need a readjustment of your own?"

 

"No, no." Carl shook his head, backing away from the hornet like robots. "I was just confused, sir." He raced over to the bag, he took out a metal ring and a slim box. "Sir, here you go, sir."

 

"Thank you," the trainer said. He smiled at Daniel. "I thought to start slowly, but your violent tendencies, your resistance shows me I must readjust my plan." He took the metal cuff and tripped a switch and it popped open. Slipping it around Daniel’s lower thigh, the Trainer continued in a dispassionate voice, "You see, even I will readjust. I admit where I have failed or misunderstood and readjust." The cuff locked around Daniel’s leg. 

 

The trainer turned to gaze at Daniel. The auto-bots grasped Daniel’s arms and secured him to the floor, he couldn’t see his leg, couldn’t imagine what the reason for the cuff. He tried to still his heart, tried to take deep breathes, but he only managed short pants.

 

Opening up the slim box, the trainer showed Daniel a syringe. The flash of lights from the auto-bots glinted off the long needle. 

 

What the hell?

 

"The cuff will protect your thigh and the rest of your body from the bacteria." The Trainer smiled. "Your calf will, of course, suffer the consequences of your poor choices."

 

Suffer the consequences? Consequences?

 

Daniel laid his head back against the bathroom door in Paul’s house. He didn’t even remember the feeling of the injection. What amazed him was how fast the gangrene took over his leg. He shuddered. His shirt clung to him with the sweat.   
He should never have come. Paul didn’t need to deal with his damage, both physical and mental. 

 

"Daniel?"

 

Shit.

 

"Daniel, are you all right?"

 

Daniel grabbed hold of the sink and, using it for leverage, hauled himself up. "Be right out." He cleaned up as quietly as he could and made his way back to the living room. "I’m sorry about..."

 

"Don’t worry about it," Thom said. "I have tea. Would you like some?"

 

"I’m not staying."

 

"What?" Paul huffed. "Daniel, you’re staying. Thom knows you’ve been through a lot."

 

"No, I just, I shouldn’t." Daniel hung his head. Damn, he was a linguist but he couldn’t even get a sentence out.

 

Paul gestured for Thom to get more tea. He laid a hand on Daniel’s shoulder. "Daniel, you have a place to stay here. We have a small cottage out back. You can stay there, if that makes you feel more comfortable. We won’t bother you and you won’t be a bother to us."

 

He said nothing, he couldn’t say a word. Emotion grabbed at his throat. He shook his head. He nodded.

 

"Good, good."

 

Something released in Daniel, his arms quaked as he held his crutches. Paul ushered him to the sofa, and Daniel collapsed. He kept his face turned away, the tears coming as a baptism of salvation.

 

"Jack called," Paul said as he watched Daniel carefully.

"Hmm?"

Paul suspected Daniel wasn't quite with him--poised as he was on the cusp of sleep.

"This morning. While you were on the bus, I guess." Paul sat down on the other chair on the porch. "I told him I didn't know where you were."

"Now you do." Daniel sat up straighter, looked at Paul as if he was trying to wake himself up.

"So," Paul said. He rubbed his hands on his khakis.

"So." Daniel looked away from him--towards the garden that Paul had coaxed back to life during the long months after Daniel's disappearance and before he'd met Thom.

"I think General O'Neill would want to know you're here. That you're safe," Paul spoke softly.

"I'm not a child, Paul. Don't patronize me," Daniel said. 

He looked so tired, Paul thought not for the first time. Not at all like the Daniel he remembered--no fire, no passion. "I'm not. And you damn well know it."

"Call him, tell him I'm here, and make sure he knows that he doesn't need to check up on the poor crippled traitor." Daniel leaned forward and gripped the porch railing and got up. "I don't want to ever see him again. You want to tell him something--tell him that. Oh and congratulate him on his promotion on the ashes of the innocent." 

Paul handed Daniel his crutches wordlessly and watched as he went back into the house. 

"Paul?" Thom came onto the porch a few minutes later.

Paul shook his head, unable to bring himself to speak. He leaned into Thom's embrace and drew on his husband's strength. He knew what he had to do--he just didn't want to be the bearer of the news.

* * * *   
* * * * 

"He's here," Paul said when Jack answered his cell.

"Thank God," Jack said. He pulled into a convenience store parking lot. "Is he okay?"

There was a long hesitation and then finally Paul said, "Yeah."

"You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe." Jack found his hands were shaking slightly.

"He's tired, worn out. He took a bus up here," Paul said and then there was another pause. "He's...it's like there's nothing left of him."

"I'll get the next flight up," Jack said.

"No." There was no hesitation this time. "Jack, seeing you has brought up a lot of stuff I think Daniel's tried to hide the past two years."

"So? What? You think letting him hide some more is for the best?"

Once again, Paul hesitated. Jack could hear measured breaths. "I think that if you come here now, he's going to run again. And if he does, neither you nor I will ever find him again." Paul went on before Jack could get in a word. "Go back to Colorado. Stay in Washington—wherever you need to be to get things straightened out. I'll keep you updated. Please, Jack."

It was Jack's turn to hesitate. The thought of Daniel disappearing yet again was horrible to contemplate--been there, done that, got the t-shirt too damn many times. Paul, much as he hated to admit it, was one hundred percent right in saying Daniel would run again. "Okay," Jack said, even though it hurt like hell. "Okay, I'll get things in order. But, Paul? If anything changes, if he..."

"I will. I promise. I love him too," Paul said and then hung up.

Jack put his head on the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths before sitting back up. He suspected Daniel needed him, he just didn't know it yet. They'd had something once upon a time. More than friends, not quite the full way to being lovers. Jack prayed for the chance to get all of Daniel back.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

 

Daniel sat on the porch looking out over dunes. The sway of the dried grass spotting the sandy landscape, soft glimmer of the last rays of sun on the ocean allowed him some peace of mind, some quietude of the soul. He so rarely felt this solitude, this peace. He glanced back at the screen door, knowing that Paul and Thomas were puttering, making dinner. He smiled; they made a good couple, solid, happy, content.

 

Thom walked out onto the porch and handed Daniel a cup of tea. "Sorry, not coffee. We’ll have some after dinner."

 

"Thanks, this is good." Daniel nodded, taking the tea with his disfigured hand. 

 

Thomas cringed. "I’m sorry, I should have realized."

 

"Don’t worry about it," Daniel said. "I’m used to it."

 

"I’m going to finish up dinner, I’ll be right back."

 

Daniel nodded again, letting Thom take his leave. He knew it took time for people to get used to him, his damaged body. He set the tea down on the table and sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t have come to Paul’s. Interfering in domestic bliss really wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he came here to just make Paul feel guilty. Or maybe he came here to escape. Or hide.

 

He eased back into the rocker and the sway of the chair lulled him. Exhausted from the trip, Daniel allowed himself to drift. He considered going to the market tomorrow with Paul. It brought to him the memories of the market on Velera where he first met Kendall.

 

Kendall had a wild shock of black hair, quick feet and nearly as quick hands. If he had been slightly faster, Daniel would never have noticed Kendall picking his pocket as he stood in the open air market in the main city of Vander. 

 

"Hey!" Daniel yelled as he raced after the boy. Seizing the boy’s collar, Daniel dragged him back to the square. "Come on give it back." He snapped his fingers in the boy’s face.

 

The boy’s eyes were wide, his body shook. "You ain’t gonna call the auto-bots, are you?"

 

"Auto-bots? You mean the police?" Daniel frowned. The boy was skin and bones

Fear marred his features, stealing him of his youth and innocence. He was obviously starving, one of the shanty town occupants. "

Are you hungry?"

 

The boy said nothing.

 

"Give it back and I’ll get you something to eat."

 

The boy hissed and slammed the notebook into Daniel’s hand. "Ain’t no good for selling anyway. What you got for me to eat?"

 

"I don’t know. What’s your name?"

 

"Ain’t none of your business. Who are you anyway? You don’t look right."

 

Daniel grimaced. He didn’t look right? What was that supposed to mean? "I’m Daniel, Daniel Jackson. I came through the Star circle." He pointed to the court yard where the Stargate was located. The boy didn’t seem to recognize the name or even what it meant. "From some place far away."

 

‘Far away, huh?" The boy sized him up then offered him a dirty hand. "Kendall."

 

"Hello, Kendall. Now do you want something to eat?"

 

"Sure."

 

It began so simply. An Oliver Twist moment, where an orphaned boy tried to pick his pocket and Daniel ended up trying to save the orphan population of Velera from their destine fate. From his observations the orphans were doomed to picking through garbage for food.

 

Daniel opened his eyes, refusing the sleep that threatened. He didn’t want to sleep, not now, thinking of Kendall. It would just bring up the memories of the end, of Kendall’s death, of Daniel’s eye. He panted. He grabbed for the tea and spilled it.

 

"Damn."

 

"You okay?" Paul asked as he came out onto the porch. He handed Daniel a towel he carried from the kitchen.

 

"Fine."

 

"Daniel."

 

He didn’t look up at Paul. He couldn’t stand to find pity there.

 

"I know you’re not fine."

 

"Well, that’s a news flash," Daniel commented and wiped the tea from his hand.

 

"Daniel, it’s me. Paul." Paul added, "Stop channeling Jack."

 

Daniel handed the towel back to Paul and their hands touched, just a graze. Paul held on, slipped his fingers through what was left of Daniel’s. Daniel wanted to pull back his hand. He stopped himself, letting Paul exam the stubs.

 

"They didn’t use the gangrene treatment on my hand," Daniel gave a mirthless laugh. "It was more crude then that. They actually cut off the fingers when I refused to sign their re-adjustment statement professing my guilt." 

 

Paul stayed silent, his fingers tracing what was left of Daniel’s hand.

 

"It was startling really, since most of their tactics up to that point were cold, you know." Daniel slipped his hand free of Paul’s grasp. He touched the stumps of his fingers. "My trainer, that’s what they called my torturer." He laughed again. "Like I had a personal trainer or something. He was furious when I said no again. I never even saw it coming. He literally just chopped them off in one swing."

 

"Jesus."

 

"He had nothing to do with it," Daniel said. "Sorry."

 

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Daniel."

 

Daniel huffed. "You don’t know that. I do, I do. I should have signed the damned thing."

 

"You followed what you believed, right?" Paul asked. Daniel knew that Paul had little in-depth knowledge about what happened. "I could never believe the Daniel I knew would do something other than what he believed."

 

Daniel stared out to the orchard. "That was the problem." 

 

A moment of nausea overcame him as he thought of the boy, and the statement. He took in a breath and picked up the teacup. He took a swig, ignoring the pain of the burn on his tongue. Paul was there again, rubbing his back. He didn’t deserve this peace.

 

Daniel wanted to sob, he wanted to scream, he wanted to tear apart everything, everyone, even himself. But then he realized, he had been tearing himself apart since he'd been kicked out of the SGC as a traitor.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

He heard the steps on the porch before he looked up to see Paul standing at the screen door, ready to knock. Daniel didn’t try to get up but called to Paul to come in. Sitting in great room of the cottage, a room that held the kitchen and living room, Daniel sipped a cup of coffee as he leafed through the Sunday paper.

 

"Thom wanted to know if you were interested in coming with us to the Fall Art Festival," Paul said. He sat on the edge of the armchair across from Daniel. The furniture in the cottage was out of date, but sturdy and comfortable. 

 

Daniel smiled at the invitation; he knew it was rude to discount the invitation especially since Thom was showing some of his pieces. Yet, the morning had not started out well. Even the shower he took, the coffee he drank still did not wipe away the grime of the visions.

 

"Daniel?"

 

He bowed his head and answered, "I’m sorry, Paul. I just don’t think today would work for me."

 

Paul nodded and stood, but stopped before he turned to leave the small house. "Tell me, Daniel, why did you come here?"

 

The question so simply asked took Daniel’s breath away. "What?"

 

Paul came back into the living room area and, instead of just sitting on the arm of the chair, he actually sat down. "Don’t get me wrong, we want you here, I want you here. You can stay here for as long as you want, forever if you need."

 

Daniel looked away, out to the window where he could see the slightest glint of the ocean on the fine line of the horizon beyond the sand dunes.

 

"But I also can’t just sit by and watch you isolate yourself. You’ve been here for over two weeks. You haven’t left the property. You haven’t even been to the beach."

 

Daniel gave a short scoff and shook his head. "I don’t think a walk on the beach is really my cup of coffee." He lifted the mug as if to toast Paul before he took the last sip. 

 

"Daniel," Paul whispered in a way that pulled Daniel’s heart. 

Inwardly he cursed, how could the man always seem to wrench deep in his core by just saying his name.

 

Paul stared at him, his gaze never faltering. "I want this place to be a refuge for you, Daniel, not a prison." He raised his hand. "Oh God, I’m sorry."

 

Daniel grabbed his crutches and struggled to get up. "Really, Paul, don’t be."

 

"But I want you to feel you can live here, really live."

 

Daniel maneuvered to the kitchen area, leaning heavily on the island. "I don’t think that’s possible for me anymore Paul."

 

"It could be, you just have to try, you know, learn how again."

 

Daniel whipped his head around, nearly sending himself off kilter. "Learn how again? Learn how?" He thumped the crutches over to Paul. "You want to know what I learned on Velera? You want to know how I learned again?"

 

Paul remained silent.

 

"My trainer made sure I learned again. I learned to not moan or cry out when they hit me, or cut off my leg because if I did make a noise it meant I couldn’t eat or sleep," he said, his voice strained, on the verge of breaking. "I learned to beg for a drink of water, I learned to lay on the floor to sleep because they took away the pallet because I asked for pain medication after they chopped off my fingers."

 

His arms trembled as he hovered over Paul. "And you know what was the most humiliating? You know what it was? Learning how to beg to relieve myself, Paul. You know, once I couldn’t hold my piss any longer. Do you know what they did then? Do you know?"

 

Paul only shook his head.

 

"They took me to the damned operating room again, stripped me down, and told me they were going to castrate me." His knuckles were white as he gripped the crutches. As the memory came slamming back, its force punched the heat of his anger out of him. He stumbled backward and fell onto the sofa. 

 

"Daniel."

 

"I really thought they would do it. I begged and pleaded." Daniel shivered at the images. He closed his eyes, trying to deny the face of his trainer from emerging from the shadows. The strength of his anger had dissipated, leaving him weak and tired. "I would have even signed the paper then, I was so, so tired of fighting. They’d taken my leg, my hand." He gave a little laugh. "My trainer, the idiot, never realized how close he came. He’d actually decided to do things more slowly, you know. Decided that asking me to sign the paper so early into my readjustment was the wrong strategy. So, his aim wasn’t to get me to sign the paper then, just to break my spirit."

 

Paul reached over and laid his hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

 

"In some ways, he succeeded in that." Daniel swallowed hard. "After setting up the i.v., prepping me, they finally stopped and my trainer asked me who was in control. I told him the truth; he was. He asked me what I was; I told him nothing. He told me I was excrement and, at that moment, I believed him."

 

Paul leaned forward as Daniel slumped toward him. Their foreheads touched. 

 

"It was at that moment I learned something about myself," Daniel murmured. 

 

The door swung open, and Daniel knew Thom had entered. He expected Paul to pull away, but he didn’t. He stayed and slipped his arms up and over Daniel’s shoulders.   
Paul asked "What, what did you learn?"

 

"That I was fallible, that I would break." Daniel felt Thom shift to stand behind him. In a way it reminded him of how Teal’c would stand sentinel duty over the team. He continued, "I knew I would sign it, eventually. I would. My trainer, he relished the game of breaking people. Maybe he did realize how close he was and didn’t care. Part of the fun of his job was crushing people’s souls."

 

Daniel drew away from Paul, glanced up at Thom, and then back at his former lover. "I didn’t sign the paper, but he succeeded. He succeeded."

 

Paul grabbed hold of Daniel’s hands. "No, Daniel, no. You’re here now, you’re alive, you’re with friends. You didn’t sign that paper because he didn’t succeed. He didn’t. Just because you had to beg for food, or water to survive doesn’t mean he took your soul. You did what was necessary to survive, and you also held onto your honor and your soul."

 

Daniel nodded, but didn’t say anything. Did he believe anything that Paul said? Could he? 

 

"Let’s," Daniel stuttered for words. "Let’s go to the art show."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

Daniel managed a strained smile. "Yeah, yes. I can do this."

 

"We’ll go for a short time," Paul promised. "You let us know when you're ready to come home."

 

Thom and Paul waited as he cleaned up. He sighed as he followed them out the door. While he wished to just remain hidden in the cottage, some small bit of him needed the sun, needed something more than his own memories.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"What are you thinking?" Thom came up behind Paul, slipping his hands under Paul's t-shirt.

Paul turned from the window where he'd been watching Daniel make his way to the cottage in the quickly falling darkness. "He's...God, Thom...if you'd met him before..."

Thom rested his head on Paul's shoulder. "It must be hard seeing him hurting."

Paul shuddered. "It's not the physical. It's the..." He swallowed hard, once, twice. "Daniel always had hope. Always believed there was better, always believed that people were better, that things would work out. Someone told me that Jack once said Daniel was the conscience of..."  
There was a small huff against Paul's neck. "I know, babe. The conscience of where he worked."

"The thing is, Jack was, no Jack is right. Daniel still is the conscience except that he's been kicked out for being that conscience."

"So what are you gonna do about it?" Thom asked. 

Daniel disappeared into the cottage and Paul turned away, his mind made up. "You want another guest?"

"The ever elusive Jack O'Neill?" 

"If Jack can't help save Daniel from himself, then there's no hope left." Paul said. He leaned into Thom, blinking to keep tears from falling. "I can't lose him again."

Daniel eased himself into the Adirondack chair, swinging his crutches to lean against the house. He settled, trying to get comfortable. He’d been working on line all day as Paul and Thom worked around the main house. He was grateful for the small in-law cottage. It allowed him a feeling of independence—a place to escape. Not that he didn't appreciate Paul and Thom being around. 

 

He spent most of his mornings on the internet. He'd found work as an online tutor, helping students tackle their college language classes. It kept him busy—in practice and for the first time in a long time he felt useful.

As he sipped the coffee, Paul waved to him. He walked the short distance and took one step onto the small porch.

 

"Thom and I were going into town," Paul said. "Do you need anything?"

 

"I’m fine."

 

Paul didn’t argue for which Daniel was grateful. Paul had given Daniel space, sometimes inviting him to dinner; other times, leaving Daniel to himself for the day.

He watched Thom and Paul leave.

 

It was a warm Autumn day and he set the mug down and closed his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, though he rarely did. The pain in his stump kept him awake, the memories haunted him. Memories.

 

He breathed in, trying to forget. Forgetting was impossible as the spasms in his leg reminded him. 

* * * *

 

"The leg is overly infected." The voice echoed in his head.

 

"The gangrene has set in, the readjustment plan is ahead of schedule, your Honor," his Trainer noted. The Trainer walked around him as he struggled against the violent seizures. The fever burned through him, the pain speared up his leg and he moaned even as he tried to muffle it.

 

"You’ve placed the cuff on improperly. The infection is spreading; the cuff has not worked well." 

 

Daniel opened his eyes to see another man in his cell. His face was set in a hard line, his lips thin, his expression grim. "He’ll lose the leg. You’ve let it go too far. He’ll probably die." He gave Daniel a swift kick in his infected leg.

 

Shrieking, Daniel curled against the pain. The waves of nausea pulsed over him and he vomited.

 

"Get him into surgery. Take the damned thing off. It stinks." The man leaned down, seized Daniel’s collar and said, "You stupid man, you should just realize those waifs you think are innocent children are lower than the bacteria eating your leg. Now you will understand what we do with garbage." He tossed Daniel down and he howled in response. The slightest touch of his inflamed leg sent bolts of pain through his thigh and hip. He fell into a stupor, unconsciousness taking him.

 

He never knew how long it was or if they’d even prepared him for what was to come next. Daniel only remembered waking as he was strapped to an operating table. The fevered dreams still set upon him. He cried out for Janet, telling her to save his leg. Lifting his head, he stared down as several orderlies restrained him. It was more like a torture table.

 

"Janet,’ he whispered. "What’s happening?" 

He couldn’t find her. Where was she? He shivered as the pain overtook him again. A sting pricked his arm and he turned to see a nurse put in an intravenous line. "Please, where’s Janet?"

 

The nurse grimaced at him but said nothing.

 

A doctor came into the large white room, snapping on gloves. The snap of the gloves threw him into the moment of Janet’s death as she slumped over from the staff weapon blast. Janet wasn’t here. Janet was dead. Where was he? What was happening?

 

He called for help. They ignored him. He called again. He heard the buzz of an electric saw. 

 

"No!" He pulled against the bonds. 

 

"You’ll be sedated in a moment," the nurse said.

 

"No, don’t do this," Daniel pleaded. "Please, Janet will save-." He stopped. Janet was dead. Dead. 

 

The nurse glared at him. "If you don’t shut up I won’t give you the sedative and we’ll just cut the rotten thing off right now."

 

"No," Daniel said and jerked at his restraints. He screamed, crying out as tears stained his face. Calling and calling.

 

"Jack!" Someone had to hear him. Jack would come, wouldn’t he? He always did, right? He always came on time. Always.

 

The sound of the saw thundered in the room.

 

"Jack, Jack, Jack!"

* * * *

 

"Daniel?"

 

"Jack!"

 

A hand touched his shoulder, lightly like the flutter of wings. With a jolt, he came awake. 

 

"Daniel?"

"Jack?" He squinted, looking up from his seat on the porch and realizing he’d had another flashback. Standing over him, Jack O’Neill held a small overnight bag. "Jack?"

 

"Daniel?"

 

"Jack? What the hell are you doing here?"

 

"Nice to see you again, too."

Daniel felt anger build. "Did Paul call you? Come to rescue me? Knight in shining armor and all that?"

"Davis called," Jack said, his tone curt. "And I doubt you need a knight to save you. You aren't a helpless prince after all."

Daniel kept his mouth shut because over the past few weeks, since Jack's abrupt reappearance in his life, he felt very helpless indeed. But anger...yes anger was good and Jack was a most convenient target. Except, he was so very very tired. Tired of fighting, of, he had to admit, everything. He looked at Jack, saw the weariness that had never been there before. Before Janet, before Velera. He felt his heart start to open and tried to squash it down. But he was oh so very lonely. He missed Jack, missed the man that had been the other part of himself. He took a deep breath and pulled himself straighter.

"My terms," he said. "You stay, but out of my way. If I say you leave, you leave. No questions, no argument. There's only one bed so you'll have to sleep on the couch." He looked at Jack's small bag. "Looks like you weren't planning on staying anyway." 

Jack dropped the bag. "I know you. Your stubbornness. I figured I might not be welcome." He gave the briefest of grins and Daniel felt his own mouth quirk up in what might have been a smile. 

"Besides," Jack continued. "I have to fly back to Colorado in two days."

For some reason, Daniel felt his heart sink. He wasn't used to this. Anger, bitterness, that had been easy. 

"Hey," Jack said and reached out, letting his hand fall before he made contact. "I'll be back. I'm not leaving for good." He held up a finger. "Unless you say leave."

"So. What? You're my guardian?" Daniel gave a harsh bark of laughter.

"We need you back, Daniel." Jack said, his tone more serious that Daniel ever remembered. "My...job...is to get you there."

"And if I say no? Because it is no."

"Then I guess I start looking at houses on Cape Cod."

Daniel's stomach twisted. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't deserve any of it and when Jack reached out, tentative and unsure and rested a hand on Daniel's shoulder, Daniel was sure his heart was about to shatter.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It was a delicate dance they performed over the following weeks. Jack, much to Daniel's surprise, did not push. He was just there—a steady presence that Daniel realized he'd missed more than he could ever express. Not that he was going to share that with Jack. Didn't want to boost the man's ego, after all.

Daniel found their days settling into a peaceful pattern. He did his online tutoring sessions, Jack did...well, whatever Jack did. Mainly left Daniel alone for most of the day. But food appeared at breakfast and lunch and supper. Waffles and sandwiches and soup and salads. There was conversation at the dinner table—questions about Daniel's tutoring, questions about the cottage, but never about the past, never about Jack's work which took him away every few days. In the cottage the SGC didn't exist.

And when Daniel woke up trembling from the nightmares, Jack was there with coffee or a glass of water or milk and his calm voice. Daniel didn't share, couldn't share, not when the anger built as the memories gathered speed.

Daniel had started going down to the beach after the first few days he'd been at Paul and Thom's. He'd never invited Jack on those rambles; Jack never asked, so Daniel surprised himself one day after lunch when he said, "Do you want to come to the beach?"

Jack looked up from gathering the dishes. "If you want me."

Daniel kept his eyes focused on the floor. "I...um...yeah."

"Okay," Jack said and put the dishes in the sink. 

Unlike Paul who sometimes had walked with him, Jack kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself. Paul's solicitousness certainly was well-meaning, but Daniel had managed on crutches just fine since he'd been dumped in Philadelphia. Hell, there'd even been a couple of weeks when he'd managed without. No, Jack just walked a few steps behind when the trail through the beach grass wasn't wide enough for two and by Daniel's side when they came out onto the beach itself.

Daniel heard Jack take a deep breath and turned to smile at him.

"Pretty nice, huh?" 

Jack smiled back. "Very nice. 

Daniel turned back to face the ocean. How could he tell Jack there were days he wished he could walk in the water, duck beneath the waves and never resurface? He shivered as the sound of waves turned into the sound of gunfire for a moment. He closed his eye and reminded himself he was on Earth, that Jack was by his side, and focused on his breathing, forced himself to time his breaths with the beat of the waves. The voice of the Trainer intruded his thoughts and he pushed it down. His right hand cramped but he tightened the grip on his crutches. So much had been taken—was he asking too much for this moment to be one of peace?

 

* * * * 

 

His team thought he was dead. He was sure of it. As he hung suspended from the ceiling, chained with manacles about his wrists, Daniel knew his team must think he was dead. How could it be otherwise? He refused to believe his team would not fight to free him, would not have done everything to rescue him. The opposing view that they had tried, failed and lost their lives in the process or that they’d never tried and didn’t care was too horrible to consider. So, in the darkest of his days, Daniel let his mind drift to the good and warm caring feelings he had for his team. 

 

They’d stripped him to the waist and strung him up with the chains in the early morning hours. No one spoke to him and he had not seen his trainer in days. He knew the man had ordered this latest torture. Hanging from the ceiling, Daniel had no choice but to place all his balance on his one knee or to allow his stump to take some of the weight in his kneeling position. For a long time, he was able to handle the weight on one knee, but slowly he conceded and started to use his stump to relieve the bolts of pain in his solitary knee. 

 

He glanced at the door to the cage; this was not his cell. They’d moved him into what he could only term a cage days ago. It had no prison amenities and seemed only fit to house animals. It was in the bottom of the prison building, and he was certain it was where prisoners were placed to be forgotten.

 

Daniel shifted, rattling his chains as he tried to adjust his wrists against the abrasive action of the shackle. Hissing, he moved and felt the warm wet drip of blood down his arms. He looked up in the dim light. How long could he stay like this without asphyxiating himself? Stress on the upper extremities due to hanging caused issues with respiration. He could already feel himself panting not only from the pain but from the extreme condition.

 

As he considered his wrists, a shuffle alerted him that someone else was in the dark basement. He squinted in the dim light and suddenly a spot light flared in his eyes. He turned away, squeezing his eyes closed. 

The voice he both despised and longed to hear called to him. "Doctor Jackson, it has been too long. I hope you did not miss me these past few days."

 

He kept quiet as his trainer had the guard opened the gate to his cage. "You see, I’ve been away conferring with your government about your current state of affairs."

Daniel’s heart leapt. Had Hammond finally convinced the Velerans to release him? Was he finally free? His respiration heightened and he tried to quell his hopes.

 

"Oh, I see you are hopeful."The trainer motioned to the guard. The man didn’t look at Daniel only walked over to a large bucket and dumped the ice cold water over Daniel. He shivered but kept his moan stifled. The taste of the water did not relieve his thirst, for it was salt water. It stung the welts and cuts that riddled his torso. He bit his cheek and kept his pain buried deep inside of himself.

 

"I actually had a very pleasant conversation with your Mister Kinsey, I believe he is a leader of some sort on your world."

 

Daniel’s heart sank. Kinsey-- the man would do anything to keep Daniel away from the SGC. But what real future did Daniel have anyway in his current state? With only one leg, a partial hand, a scarred face?

 

His trainer walked the short distance to stand in front of Daniel, actually shielding him from intensity of the spot light. He leaned down and faced Daniel. "I spoke to him," his trainer whispered. "He gave you over to me. He asked me to teach you a lesson you so rightly deserve. You see, Doctor Jackson, you have been categorized as a Frendari by your own world. What are you, Doctor Jackson?"

 

He didn’t answer. Instead in a firm clear voice he stated, "I’ll sign the paper."

 

With a swift jab to the abdomen, his trainer hit him and repeated, "What are you, Doctor Jackson?"

 

"I’m guilty, I’m a traitor, I’ll sign the paper," Daniel stated, his voice cold and purposeful. He would get out of here; he would get back to the SGC and he would see Kinsey hang for this, if it was the last thing he did.

 

His trainer kicked him in the groin. Daniel’s automatic reaction to double over caught him in the chains and a suffocated scream burst out of his clenched teeth. 

 

"You don’t seem to understand, Doctor Jackson. The time for signing the paper is long gone. You are mine to do with as I please."His trainer circled him and Daniel struggled to catch a breath. "Your own leader, Kinsey, has given me full rights to do as I would with the lowest of the Frendari. I want to ensure that even when I am away from you, even when you are away from this prison once your readjustment is complete and we allow you to return home, you will always remember." His trainer lingered behind Daniel and then he felt the sting of a needle at the base of his neck. "You will never stray from your training Doctor Jackson, I assure you. You will be my best student."

 

The trainer stepped in front of Daniel once again and gestured to the guard. Daniel shook his head, what the hell did his trainer just inject him with? Why inject him with any drug? 

 

He tried again, "Kinsey would want me to sign a paper that officially states I’m a traitor. Let me sign the paper and return to Earth. I cannot stray from my training, and I know this would make me lower than low in my society."

 

His trainer whipped around, glaring at Daniel. "Bargaining? Bargaining, Doctor Jackson?" He bellowed. "I thought we were long past this point in your readjustment." He clutched a hand around Daniel’s throat. "I’ll ask you one last time, Doctor Jackson, and the answer better be the right one. What are you, Doctor Jackson?"

 

Fighting for air, Daniel gulped and swallowed against the constriction. He felt the pressure bulge into his eye sockets, felt the pounding in his brain, the rush in his ears. He relented, "Excrement,"he mouthed. "I’m excrement beneath your feet."

 

The fingers relaxed a degree but remained in place. "Say it again, Doctor Jackson."  
Tears had formed in his eyes from the pressure, but he did not cry. With more voice to it, Daniel said, "Excrement, I am only excrement beneath your feet."

 

"Do you wish to sign the paper?"

 

"Only if it is what you wish me to do,"Daniel said, his eyes unfocused.

 

"Do you wish for me to keep you here and continue to train you, continue your readjustment."

 

The pain streaked through his heart and dug into his soul as he said the required words, "I long for it."

 

"And so, I will do as you wish, because I am kind to those lower than myself," his trainer said and the guard marched into the cage with a case and with two other guards following.

 

Palpitations slammed his chest as he looked at the case. God, what else could they do to him, what else would they take from him? Not only had they taken his body, but they somehow took the SGC. How? Why? Where was his team?

 

When the tiny cry broke through his strangled breaths, Daniel glanced up and recognized Kendall being led into the cage. 

 

No. No. No.

Kendall’s hands were bound in front of him but save for looking frightened he was unharmed. As soon as he saw Daniel, he started to sob. Daniel shook his head, wanting to say something to Kendall to alleviate the boy’s fears. He could not imagine what a sight he must be, hanging from the ceiling, stump exposed in the tattered pants, red blotch of a burn still bright on his face, with blood streaks down his arms. Just the sight of Daniel terrified the boy.

Casting all caution aside, Daniel looked at Kendall and said, "Don’t worry, Kenny, I can handle it."He shrugged his shoulders. "This is nothing, I’ve died several times before. This, this is a piece of cake."

Surprisingly, his trainer allowed him to speak freely without reprimand. Daniel eyed the man but the Veleran had his case open on a small table outside the cage. He glanced up at Daniel, confirming to Daniel that he heard him, but he only smiled in return. What was his game? 

Daniel continued to soothe the boy. "We’re almost out of here. I’m pretty certain we’re going to leave soon."

 

His trainer swept into the room and said, "How right you are, for this piece of shit that is." He turned to the guard closest to the boy and said, "Do it."

 

Without pause, without ceremony, the guard sliced open the boy’s neck. Gasping, the very air caught in Daniel’s throat. Breath eluded him, sound disappeared as he watched Kendall drop lifelessly to the floor. Breaking through, he heard the voice of his trainer.

 

"And that Doctor Jackson is the last thing you will see."

 

The words echoed in his head as he screamed, "No!"He watched as the guard tossed Kendall into a heap in the corner like no more than garbage.

 

Another guard circled around him and clamped his arms and hands about Daniel’s head.

 

"Now, Doctor Jackson, we will take your sight."

 

"No!"Daniel jerked at the chains, kicking out with his stump at the trainer. 

 

"Hit him."

 

The guard who killed Kendall struck Daniel with such force in the abdomen he couldn’t make a sound of protest or a cry of pain. His trainer stuffed a small syringe up his nostril and squeezed it into his airway. Coughing, Daniel immediately felt the effect. His face went numb and it spread outward to his neck, then his body. Grappling against his bonds became difficult, impossible as even the movement of a hand or finger or the blink of his eyes felt heavy, uncoordinated.

 

He tried to speak but the words jumbled in his mouth.

 

"Now." His trainer leaned in with a forceps and an instrument with a laser light. "It is only a matter of time, Doctor Jackson, until you are dependent on your betters for everything."

 

The forceps slipped into his eye socket and he groaned, trying to struggle away.   
"If you manage to move, I could very well cut through to your brain and damage you further,"his trainer said as the laser closed in on his eye. "First I will destroy the cornea, then I will move to the actual iris, and lens of the eye, finally I will burn away the retina. Once I have completed this task, both eyes will be completely removed."

 

Daniel pushed his head back, but the guard held him in place. Every memory, every pain and joy of his life disintegrated and funneled down to this moment in time. He felt nothing else, but this horror. Breaking out against the nasal drug, he cried out, the sound only a whimper. He grasped on to that tiny mewl, and begged to be released.

 

"Any – any,"Daniel said. "Any-thing, anything." His heart crashed in his chest like great waves smashing into the shore, tormented by a coming storm.

 

His trainer halted for a moment and smiled down at Daniel. "You will do anything, Doctor Jackson?"

 

He tried to nod, but his head refused his command. He moaned a little.

 

"Sign the paper?"

 

Daniel moaned his agreement.

 

The trainer’s lips curled in a malicious smile. "Good, good. Once we have finished here, you may sign the paper and your readjustment will nearly be complete."

 

Daniel tried to shake his head, tried to jerk away as the laser threatened. But his trainer seized Daniel by the throat again and plunged his fingers into the soft tendons in this neck. "You still don’t understand, Doctor Jackson. You can’t bargain your way out of the readjustment. You could have signed the paper a week ago, two weeks ago, when you first stepped into your cell. It would not have mattered. It isn’t about a piece of paper. What it is about is complete and utter submission to my will."

 

The laser pierced his eye and he screamed.

 

Agony stabbed through his eye, punctured his faith in the good of human nature. With every skillful motion of his trainer’s hand as his eye was slowly dissected, Daniel lost the last hope, his last belief in humanity.

 

He barely registered the thunder of boots as a barrage of gun fire blasted through the dark basement. Something in his brain told him his trainer had been interrupted, but the pressure in his eye exploded and he felt the warm vitreous humour, the fluid within the ball of his eye, leak down his cheek like so many tears. He felt the guard fall away, releasing his head. Shouts and screams from a fire fight broke through his pain, but he could not concentrate on them. His brain started to shut away these days, he felt the bricks in his wall forming. He closed himself off from the world around him.

 

Abruptly, his arms were freed and he fell into someone’s arms. The voice spoke to him in hushed tones, "I’m sorry, Doctor Jackson, we got here as soon as we could."

 

He expected a face from SGC, but instead he saw the face of one of his guards, Carl. His mouth formed the name but no sound came to his lips.

 

Carl pressed a bandage up to Daniel’s eye. "Get me a medic, here!" He gathered Daniel to him. "Don’t worry, we’ll get you home. The Resistance is moving now against the government. All hell is breaking loose. Not all of the Velerans believe like the upper caste does."

 

Another person knelt by Daniel’s side and started to administer an intravenous line. "We have to get him out of here. It’s too dangerous to keep him here. We can’t hold the Readjustment Center. Our forces are too few."

 

"What about his people?"

 

"We’ve alerted them and they should meet us at the Stargate,"the medic said.

 

"We’re getting you home," Carl said.

 

Daniel curled into a ball away from the medic’s ministrations. Words started to seep back into his mind. "Trainer won’t allow it, can’t."

 

Carl squeezed his hand. "Your trainer is dead, Daniel. I killed him myself."

 

"Let’s go, we don’t have time."

 

Carl hoisted Daniel’s bloody body onto his shoulder and followed the medic to the cage entrance. The last thing Daniel saw was the blood stain spreading out across the cage floor from his trainer’s body. It blossomed out toward the center of the room to mix with the pool of blood from Kendall. Daniel could only wonder how there ever was a difference between the two.

 

****

 

Daniel startled awake. The images flooding to his conscious brain and he panted for air. He needed to get out of bed, to move. He grasped his crutches and swung himself out of the bed. He pulled his body along and started a stumbling pacing in the small bedroom. He knocked over the lamp but ignored the shattered pieces as he continued to thump back and forth in the room.

 

"Daniel?"Jack called from the hallway. "Are you all right?"

He twisted around and flung open the door.

 

"Jesus, Daniel, you look like you just saw a ghost."

 

"I remembered, Jack, I remembered everything," Daniel said, his voice a whisper.

 

"What?"

 

"When I lost my eye,"Daniel said, shaking his head. "I used to think it was just a moment in time. I only remembered seeing my trainer have Kendall killed, but there was so much more Jack, so much more."

 

Daniel wavered on his crutches and Jack said, "I think you need to sit down."

 

"I think I need a cup of coffee."

 

"Just sit,"Jack said. "I'll start a pot."

 

Daniel collapsed on the bed. For all these years, he only remembered a part of the sequence of events. He recalled the cage and Kendall’s death, then the loss of his eye. The intimate details weren’t there, but now they flooded his memory like a tsunami.

 

Jack came back into the bedroom and sat next to Daniel on the bed. He was shaking as he spoke, "Kinsey did this to me, Jack. He did it all. He told them to keep me."He rifled a hand through his hair. "Even when I begged to sign the paper, they didn’t stop. Kinsey told them to keep me."

 

Jack cursed.

 

Daniel rubbed his empty eye socket. "How can anyone hate so completely?"

 

Jack slipped his arm over Daniel’s shoulders. He remained silent.

 

"I think I know,"Daniel said, his voice distant and cold. "I think I understand now."

 

"What do you understand, Danny?"

 

"Sometimes there’s nothing worth saving."

 

Jack pulled Daniel into an embrace and said in a low voice, "Danny, you’re worth it, you know that, right, you know it?"

 

Daniel leaned against Jack’s shoulder and said, "Now I do."

 

The stench of smoke and gunpowder was in the air and Paul coughed against it.

"Down, sir," Major Reynolds yelled and pushed Paul's head down. Paul gasped as wood exploded right where their heads had been just seconds before.

Paul looked at him. The man wore a tight grin despite the on-going battle. Reynolds thumbed his radio, listening intently. Paul couldn't understand what was being said, his ears still ringing from the gunfire going on around them. Velera was in flames--the revolution begun. And Daniel. Paul's stomach twisted. God only knew where Daniel was.

"The Gate's secure, sir," Reynolds said into Paul's ear. "We're going with a group of Frendari."

Paul tensed, ready to go at Reynolds' signal. In their dealings with the Veleran bureaucracy, the other officer had deferred to him, but in this, Paul was out of his element. There was another burst of static from the radio and then Reynolds gave his signal. Paul followed him through a nightmare maze of back alleys, his heart pumping, his mind constantly expecting that each moment would be his last.

"Here," Reynolds said, stopping abruptly. A group of Frendari wearing the brown and gold of the burgeoning revolution appeared. Paul recognized one of them.

"We've got Doctor Jackson," Nic said. His mouth was set in a grim line. "He..." But Nic cut off his explanation as a vehicle appeared. "Go," he said to Paul and Reynolds. "We will get you to the Stargate. You and your people can return home."

A young woman pushed both of them towards the truck. "Go. It is not safe for you here."

Paul turned to say thank you to Nic but the younger man had already disappeared back into the alley. He climbed into the back of the truck to be greeted by a group of Frendari, two of whom were kneeling by a figure on a stretcher. Paul was vaguely aware of Reynolds behind him, of the truck starting to move, of the way the older woman with gray eyes steadied him as he sank to his knees by the blanket covered figure, and then of Reynolds letting out a quiet curse. As for Paul, he couldn't seem to find any words to say except one. "Daniel."

"Daniel," Paul said again but Daniel just lay there, staring up at the ceiling of the truck, a pad covering one eye and another dressing covering his cheek. He didn't respond.

"He's been drugged," the gray-eyed woman whispered. "Good thing of it too." 

"Daniel."

Paul couldn't believe that after all of it, Daniel had been found alive. Alive. The word beat a frantic tattoo in his heart, his every breath. He let himself look, really look as the truck rumbled along the road. His elation began to turn to horror.

He let his gaze skim down Daniel's body--far too thin and worn. Paul stared at Daniel's legs. His eyes were telling him one thing but he didn't want to believe it. "No," he whispered. "No." It didn't matter that there was a thin blanket covering Daniel--the way it was flattened on one side made it all too apparent that...

Paul closed his eyes and forced himself to stay calm. Anger, fear, horror--none of those emotions were going to do him a bit of good right now. He took Daniel's closest hand in his and watched as the woman knelt on Daniel's other side. She checked an IV line and then lifted Daniel's right hand. Paul swallowed hard and heard Reynolds curse behind him. My God, Paul thought, what had the bastards done to him in that "readjustment center"? He made a vow to make sure the SGC knew just how much Kinsey's insistence that they deal with the Velerans over Daniel's objections had cost all of them. 

Daniel's mouth was moving, although Paul couldn't hear him. He leaned closer to hear Daniel chanting in a broken voice, "Yes. I'll sign. Please, I'll sign."

"You're safe now," the woman soothed as Daniel moved restlessly.

She said something to one of the other medics in the truck and the man handed her a needle which she injected into the IV.

"I'm here," Paul said and squeezed Daniel's fingers gently. He hoped that some part of Daniel knew he was safe, that he was going home.

The woman smiled gently at him and then moved her gloved fingers to Daniel's face. She removed the dressing on Daniel's cheek--a dressing that Paul discovered covered a raw, seeping burn.

Daniel's fingers were hot in his, burning with fever. Paul inhaled sharply as the woman removed the pad covering Daniel's right eye--or rather what had been...

* * * * 

Paul sat up abruptly, his breathing harsh in the night. He stumbled out of bed, nearly falling, and made it to the bathroom just in time.

"Baby. Oh baby," Thom said and rubbed his back. Paul rested his head against the cool of the porcelain seat. He felt Thom lean over him, flush the toilet, and then run some water.

"Here," Thom said, pulling him back and wiping a cool cloth over Paul's face. He handed Paul a small paper cup of water. "Drink."

Paul did. 

"Okay?" Thom asked and helped him to his feet when he nodded shakily.

He leaned into Thom, appreciating his husband's strength. Paul bit his lip as they walked back to the bed, but he couldn't hold it back. He felt hot tears began to fall and then, his throat felt as if it would break from tightness. 

"Oh Paul," Thom said, holding him tight, keeping him from flying to pieces as he began to sob in great heaving gulps.

* * * *

"Shhh..." Thom was saying when Paul felt as if there were no other tears he could possibly shed in his life. Thom was rubbing a small circle on his forehead, his fingers brushing Paul's hair every so often. 

Paul could hear the rumble of thunder out to sea--maybe that was what had triggered the dream. Or maybe it was Daniel's presence here, or Jack's, or maybe it was just that it was a part of him. Whatever the reason, the aftermath had left him exhausted, although he doubted he'd sleep the rest of the night. 

"Let's go have some tea," Thom said. He got up and grabbed Paul's bathrobe, making sure Paul wrapped himself in it before they left the bedroom. Paul followed him down the stairs into the kitchen where Thom turned on the light over the sink and nothing more.

Good, Paul thought, confessions were sometimes better done in the dark. He watched Thom making tea, his movements precise, his artists' hands strong and capable and felt a rush of love for the other man. 

They sat in silence and drank their tea and Thom opened the back door to let air in. The smell of rain, clean and fresh, filled the kitchen, and the sound of the ocean, the relentless, unending tide was a constant presence. The ocean had calmed him when he first came here after...everything. He would wander down to the beach and sit for hours and watch and listen until his heartbeat and breathing matched that of the waves.

"I thought he was going to die," Paul said, gripping his mug more firmly. "We got him home and I thought he was going to die. And then they wouldn't believe me. Only the stupid papers he'd signed. They wanted him to die, wanted to get rid of him because he knew the truth. And I was too much of a coward to continue to fight for him." Paul felt tears begin to fall again but this time he swiped at his face angrily. 

"Listen to me," Thom said. He had moved his chair in front of Paul's and placed his hands on Paul's thighs. "Look at me."

Paul obeyed. 

"You remember when you first came here? That day I ran into you at the market?"

And ran into was the literal description. Paul nodded.

"You looked as haunted as Daniel does now." Thom reached out and ran a finger down Paul's cheek. "You did all you could. I *know* you, Paul. I know you didn't give up on Daniel. I know you did everything you could." He smiled. "It's time to let go the past and start looking ahead. Or if not ahead, just to the dawn."

Paul didn't say anything, and Thom got up and made himself busy with mugs and sugar bowl and spoons. Paul got up and walked to the door, went out onto the back porch. Lightning flashed miles out on the ocean while the rain fell onto their garden, a soft pit-pat of sound. He looked down towards Daniel and Jack's cottage and saw lights on. Maybe dreams haunted them too this night.

Thom appeared again, this time with a couple of wool blankets. Paul smiled at him and sat down on the wooden glider, patting the space beside him. They wrapped themselves in blankets and sat to wait out the night.

 

The door whispered closed and Jack let the tension ease from his shoulders. He hung his head as he just stood by the bedroom. Daniel was sleeping finally. Rubbing his hands through his short graying hair, Jack wished somehow this could stop, would stop.

A slight sound behind him alerted Jack that Paul had come to the cottage. Jack sighed, time to face the music. A single light was on in the main room, and Paul sat in the overstuffed easy chair that Daniel liked to relax in. Jack rolled his shoulders to relieve the pain, to wipe away his discomfort.

"I called a friend at the Pentagon today," Paul started. He wasn’t looking at Jack, but studied the small fire he’d started in the stone fireplace.

"What? Did you report me as AWOL, because I’m the General, you know."

Paul gestured for Jack to sit, but instead he remained standing. Something about Paul’s demeanor made the disquiet in his chest grow.

Shaking his head, Paul glanced down the hallway to Daniel’s bedroom. "No, I called about Daniel."

Jack looked back at the door, back at Paul and then crossed his arms. "Last I heard Daniel no longer worked for the Department of Defense and neither did you."

He saw Paul tense, saw as he gripped the arms of the chair. He expected the man to explode. Yet Paul held back. "That’s true, but this is about Daniel. He needs help and it isn’t like he can walk into the nearest mental health clinic and start spouting about his time on Velera."

It was Jack’s turn to hold back, to try and quell the fires. "Daniel is not mental."

"No, he isn’t. But he needs help." Paul stood. "This is getting out of hand, General. He needs help. That last flashback wasn’t just a flashback. He was gone, gone on us for nearly 30 minutes. That isn’t a normal flashback."

"It’s bad, I admit. We can handle it." Jack discounted Paul, hoping the man would just forget it, just move on.

"We’re losing him, Jack," Paul said. "He has PTSD."

"Suddenly, you’re a doctor."

"And suddenly you’re an idiot."

"Watch yourself, Davis."

"I’m not in the service anymore, so General...Jack, I’ll speak my mind," Paul said, standing toe to toe with him. "That man in there, that man you call your friend is suffering. It’s been two years and the persistence of his flashbacks and nightmares are intensifying."

"We don’t know that, we don’t know that Daniel didn’t have these issues before," Jack said, knowing full well he was grasping at straws.

"So, it makes it all right to just ignore it? He’s dealt with it for two years, so everything is fine? Daniel’s fine?" He could have sworn Paul was about to growl at him.

"No, no, it isn’t okay," Jack said and sank onto the sofa. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed. "I don’t know what to do. What if me just being here is making it worse?"

"What if me being around brought it all to a head," Paul replied. "We can’t make any judgments, or even try and figure out why. All we need to do is help him, help Daniel now."

Jack nodded, but he couldn’t speak, just couldn’t.

"I know someone quite well respected at the Pentagon. She has the clearances, she’s trained and has done research in PTSD."

Shaking his head, Jack said, "I just don’t think Daniel will even consider talking to another MacKenzie."

Paul gave a little laugh. "Oh Callie is so far away from being a MacKenzie not even a wormhole would connect the two. And let's just say I'm owed some favors."

Jack considered it. The pain in Daniel’s voice still echoed in his head. He had no other choice, but was it his choice? Glancing at the bedroom door, Jack felt something deep inside tighten. "Sure, bring her." Better to ask forgiveness after the fact.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"I have to admit, General, I’m not a fan of surprises," the woman said, her expression reminding him of Janet Frasier. She had her hair wrapped up into long dread locks and then tied into a thick braid. Her dark eyes were kind and that impressed Jack.

 

He nodded and looked at Paul. They’d discussed Daniel’s mental state several times, focusing in on how the nightmares and flashbacks were ripping apart his peace of mind. The dark circles, the faraway look and the trembling. The last worried Jack the most. When Daniel stood for any length of time, his arms would shake as he held onto his crutches. It seemed to Jack that Daniel was literally holding onto his sanity with every fiber of his strength, and he was failing.

 

Paul stepped up and said, "We understand your reservations, Callie, but we also know Daniel." He considered Jack and continued, "He has a mistrust of the mental health community and would never agree to counseling."

 

"Even if it means his sanity," Jack added. 

 

"Still, you should have warned him," Callie noted and looked at the cottage beyond the small garden in the back of the main house. She bit her full bottom lip. "Is he home, now?"

 

"Yes, he very rarely goes anywhere," Paul said and ushered the therapist into the living room. "Please sit."

 

She pursed her lips as if she might refuse his offer, or at the very least tell him where to stuff it, but then she glanced at him and only nodded. Sometimes it was good to be the General.

 

"You’ve been briefed on the SGC program?" Jack asked.

 

"Yes," Callie said, sitting on the edge of her seat. "Though I’m based in D.C. I spend most of my time reviewing the reports for the SGC, referring medical cases for PTSD."

 

"You’ve reviewed the Velera file?" Jack said, his focus cast downward. What would she think of them? How they abandoned their friend during his time of need?

 

"Yes, but I have some questions," Callie said. She didn’t wait for them to invite her to query them, instead she launched into her concerns. "Doctor Jackson went to Velera without SG1, correct?"

 

When they both nodded, she continued, "He proceeded with the negotiations for access to the Ancient repository." She leaned over and dug through her bag for a stenographer’s notebook. "Doctor Jackson and SG11 engaged in a rescue operation of a local boy. The boy was part of a terrorist-."

 

"Not terrorist at all," Paul said at the same time Jack said, "Resistance movement."

 

"Okay, so the file is wrong?"

 

"Yes," they said in unison.

 

"Perhaps, then you should fill me in?" Callie clicked her pen and sat, expectant and ready like a student.

 

Paul took a deep breath and started, "Velera had a caste system where the upper class was considered of a higher human form than the lower class, called the Frendari. Daniel was taken into custody when the government found out about SG11 and Daniel’s participation in the rescue mission." 

 

"Daniel was held for a little over 4 weeks," Jack said, the words choking his throat. "He was tortured both mentally and physically." Jack’s stomach twisted at the thought, and struggled to keep his last meal in its proper place.

 

"The file said he lost his leg, partial loss of a hand, an eye and has a scar on his face. Is that correct?" Callie said as she glanced at her notes. "Can I ask why he was labeled a traitor by his own country after such an ordeal?"

 

Jack considered her, gave a sidelong glance at to Paul as if asking him for assistance. When Paul started to answer Callie, Jack raised his hand and sighed. "Kinsey."

 

"You mean the Vice President?"

 

"Yes, Kinsey, he was a Senator at the time," Jack said, scowling at the name. "Kinsey thought the Ancient repository on Velera was the ever elusive Lost City. When the incident went down, the rest of SG1 was on downtime and General Hammond was out on leave. The Velerans refused to negotiate with us after Daniel was returned."

 

"Returned?" Callie considered her notes again. "According to the file, Doctor Jackson escaped and returned home. He was arrested for treason due to information sent to the SGC from Velera as well as the fact Velera locked the SGC out and refused any further contact."

 

"Daniel didn’t escape," Paul said. "He was in no condition to escape. He’d literally just lost his eye, when the Resistance group was able to free him and contact me."

 

"You were on Velera?"

 

"Yes, I was trying to negotiate Daniel’s release," Paul said.

 

"General? You were part of SG1 at the time, correct?"

 

"Yes, I was part of SG1 at the time." Jack took a deep breath and shook his head. "A member of the SGC had just died."

 

"Janet Fraiser?"

 

"Yes, she’d died. I had been injured to some extent during the battle she died in." Jack cringed inside. Where had he been? Why hadn’t he been with Paul, with the Resistance to rescue Daniel? "I went away, took some leave."

 

Callie bent down to meet his gaze. "You lost someone important to the SGC, to you. There is nothing wrong with needing time to find your equilibrium."

 

"Yeah, yeah right," Jack just mumbled, then taking a deep breath, said, "By the time I got back, Daniel was in solitary confinement and being charged with treason."

 

"You were not contacted about Doctor Jackson’s situation?"

 

Jack shook his head and fisted his hands. "No, no. Damned bastard Kinsey made sure of it."

 

"If Daniel was charged with treason, why was he able to leave the SGC?" Callie forged onward.

 

"They dropped the charges because there was no evidence. The Velerans would not accept contact from us. They could have moved forward with a military tribunal but Hammond was called back to the SGC and Kinsey knew there was no way he could stick the charges."

 

"But Doctor Jackson left the SGC with no contact with anyone for two years, correct?"

 

"Correct," Paul said. "They’d told us he’d killed himself."

 

"Having fun?"

 

Damn. How did someone walking with crutches manage to sneak up on them? Daniel stood in the doorway to the living room, his expression in silhouette.

 

"Daniel." Jack stood, opening his arms to try to explain but no words would come.

 

Daniel stared at Jack for a silent moment, then recognized someone else was in the room. Realization dawned on Daniel. Glaring at each of them, Daniel said, "God damn son of a bitch. You brought another Mackenzie." 

 

If it was possible, Daniel managed to stomp around with his crutches. He regarded the short woman as she stood to greet him. "Sorry you wasted a trip, but you won’t be needed here. Good-bye."

 

Without saying a word, Callie nodded. She bent to gather up her bag and notebook. As she shoved the notebook into the overloaded purse, Jack started to protest.

Callie raised a hand to stop him. "Doctor Jackson has every right to say no thank you. It is his choice, is it not?"

 

Jack whispered affirmation.

 

"Well then, I’ll say my good-byes." She maneuvered around Daniel and started for the door, but before she opened it, she turned and asked, "May I ask one question, Daniel, before I leave."

 

He said nothing in reply.

 

"Why is it you don’t have a prosthetic?" 

 

"What?" he said, startled by the question. "Why is that any business of yours?"

 

"Well, it isn’t. You’re correct about that," she huffed. "But then maybe you just like pity."

 

"What the hell?" Daniel seemed to bash his crutches into the floor boards as he angled over to her. "Pity, you think I’m doing this for pity? Does it look like I enjoy it? Does it?"

 

As Jack started to come to his defense, Daniel snarled at him to shut up.

 

Callie walked over to Daniel, sized him up and folded her arms around her ample chest. In a soft tone, she said, "No, Daniel, it doesn’t look like you enjoy it at all. But the question is, do you enjoy anything anymore?"

 

Daniel stared at her. Paralyzed by her words, the entire room seemed frozen. After a moment, Jack realized Daniel’s arms were trembling, his knuckles white with tension. He moved to help him, but Callie stopped him with a swift gesture.

 

"Daniel?" she whispered.

 

"No."

 

"No?"

 

"No, I don’t enjoy anything, anymore." He glanced up at the ceiling as if he was trying to stop the tears. "I don’t know what joy is anymore. I don’t know if it exists."

 

Jack steadied himself against the pain radiating from Daniel.

 

"I can’t say one way or the other whether you’ll find what you need, Daniel, but I can tell you this," Callie said slowly. "There’s people here who love and care for you. You need to know that, and in that you may find your way back to them and to rediscovering what is good about this life."

 

Jack was there as Daniel crumpled, as Daniel held onto him, as Daniel reached out to Callie and murmured his assent to her help.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The cottage was closing in. He looked again at the phone numbers Jack had handed him two nights ago. Jack thought he knew everything--the knight on the white horse riding to the rescue. What happened when the sacrifice to the dragon didn't care about his own immolation? What happened when the rescuee wasn't worth the rescue effort? Daniel found it a struggle to catch his breath. He needed to get out--away from this place. Away from everything. He was tired. No--beyond tired. Exhausted from the struggle. He'd fought so hard against his interrogators on Velera, fought the accusations when he came home and still there was no rest, no respite. He'd always been a fighter but even a fighter had a time when he needed to walk away from the fight.

He hopped the short distance to his crutches, pushed open the door and let the wind and rain of the autumn storm fully embrace him. He was careful going down the two stairs and then started on the path towards the beach. The rain was hard, like needles, but he didn't care, welcomed the sting of it. The wind buffeted him and made it hard to keep his balance. The sand was hard-packed though despite the rain. Beach grass slapped his leg as he made his way on the path. He stopped at the crest of the small rise, breathing harder than he ought and looked at the storm-lashed sea. He heard a bell-buoy clanging somewhere beyond sight and watched as wave after wave broke onto the shore. The water was gray--a reflection of the storm clouds above, a reflection he supposed of his own mood.

Damn Callie for pushing at him. A part of him knew the anger was mis-placed. He was just so tired. Tired of the fight, tired of remembering Velera. He needed his life back--he wanted his life back but how could he even start? He tightened his jaw as he went further on the path, down the hill and onto the beach proper. 

Would the pain ever end? What right did Callie have making him talk about things he'd rather forget? His life hadn't been great before Jack showed up, but he'd lived with a hard-won peace. He didn't have much in Philly but no one bothered him and there had only been a few nightmares past the first few months. 

The ocean beckoned, the waves relentless. He felt himself pulled closer to those pounding waves—drawn by some compulsion he couldn't name. He didn't want to care any longer. Why did the spectres of Velera continue their haunting? He'd failed everyone in his arrogance of thinking he could make a difference. He'd failed and gone down in flames, Icarus soaring towards the sun and then tumbling helpless and alone into the sea. 

 

Daniel found himself sprawled on the sand with no memory of falling. He pushed himself up on his hands, felt salt-spray sting his lips. His palms stung from the fall, and he pulled his crutches closer before he tried to get upright. His arms shook though and try as he might, he couldn't seem to gain his balance, the water swirling around him.

He heard someone yelling although the words were incoherent above the roar of waves.

"Daniel!"

Jack was there--and Daniel didn't know how or when.

"Daniel," Jack said, his voice softer, moving in closer. "Please, Danny, I'm here."

A howl left Daniel's throat and he realized the incoherent yelling had been his own. 

"No!" He screamed it over the wind and rain and ocean. "No!" He tilted his head back and let the rain batter his face. He scrabbled away from Jack and hit his hands against the sand, over and over. 

He didn't know when the lump in his throat, in his chest broke free but he found himself sobbing and then Jack's arms were around him, holding him and he cried even harder.

* * * * 

Jack held tight, as if by doing so he could keep Daniel from shattering. Daniel grabbed at his shirt, dragging Jack down with the force. His words were disjointed and what he was saying was probably less important than the emotion behind it.

The wind bit into Jack's skin--his shirt plastered against his skin. He did his best to protect Daniel from the worst of it. Surely it couldn't be good for Daniel to be out here in the storm. He tugged at Daniel, urging him up with touch more than words. He grabbed Daniel's crutches and handed one to Daniel. Daniel looked at him as if he had no idea of its use. 

"We've got to get back to the cottage," Jack said. "I can't carry you."

Daniel nodded and adjusted the crutch. Jack could feel the shudders still coursing through Daniel's body. 

"I'll help," Jack told him. He half-expected a rough reply, a "I don't need help" for which he'd mentally prepared his own argument back. But there was no comment, and they made their way back to the cottage, wavering as if they'd both had too much to drink.

"Your lips are nearly blue," Jack said when the door was shut against the storm, and Daniel stood leaning against the counter in the kitchen.

"Huh."

"C'mon. You need to get warmed up," Jack said. "I'll start a bath for you." He turned at the doorway. "You think you can make it on your own?"

He stood and watched as Daniel balanced himself and then nodded before he went to the bathroom.

* * * *

Daniel heard water running and Jack moving around. He sighed and went into the living room. He didn't lower himself to the sofa or even one of the chairs. Besides not wanting to get the furniture wet, he knew if he sat, he wouldn't feel like getting up again. He felt as though something had been beaten out of him--and he knew what he had to do. He picked up the phone and dialed the first number on the paper. He looked at the clock. Nearly six. Most likely there wouldn't be an answer. If there wasn't, Daniel didn't know if he'd be able to ever summon the strength to call again.

"Hello," he said when a man answered the phone, "my name is Daniel Jackson and I need to make an appointment."

* * * * 

"Bath's ready," Jack announced when he came into the living room. His heart beat just a little faster when he saw Daniel standing by the table, head bowed. "Daniel?"

"Yeah." Daniel took a deep breath before he raised his head and looked at Jack. "December 19th." 

"December 19th?" Jack felt a frisson of fear. "You're not making much sense here."

"I need to go to..." Daniel shivered. "Boston. I made some appointments." He tilted his head.

Jack looked at the table, the phone, the paper with the numbers Doctor Warner had given Jack and it all slipped into place. He kept his expression neutral. "I'll drive you in." He moved a bit closer, touched Daniel's shoulder. "The bath water's gonna get cold and that's going to defeat the purpose of actually having one. C'mon." He stepped away and trusted Daniel to follow.

* * * *

He heard the rain lashing against the side of the house but inside the bathroom it was comfortably warm. Daniel looked at the tub and for the life of him couldn't figure out exactly what he was to do.

"Daniel."

Oh yeah. He fumbled with the button on his jeans--his fingers didn't want to work and his right hand cramped. 

"Let me." Jack bent slightly and batted Daniel's hands away. "You need to get warmed up. Can you get your shirt off?" Jack's breath was hot against Daniel's chilled skin.

Daniel closed his eye for a moment and let himself imagine...No. He was most definitely not going there. Shirt. Shirt--he could do that he thought. Jack had his jeans unbuttoned and his hands were on Daniel's hips.

"No!" The word came out sharply, and Jack looked up at him in surprise.

"Daniel?"

"I...you...my leg..." Daniel couldn't seem to find the words, but Jack understood. It shouldn't have surprised him--too many years together, too many times they'd needed to communicate with nothing more than glances.

"Do you want me to leave? Even though chances are, you're gonna wind up flat on your ass." Jack waited. 

"It's ugly," Daniel finally whispered. No one had seen him naked since Kinsey's doctors had... Daniel shivered. Damn it, he was stronger than this. Why was everything crowding in on him? Why the hell had Jack ever shown up?

"I'll leave," Jack said. "You yell if you need any help though."

Daniel looked at him, took a deep breath. "You don't have to leave." 

Jack gave a sharp nod and placed his hands back on Daniel's hips. "You sure?"

Daniel nodded. He placed his hands on Jack's shoulders for balance and lifted his butt as Jack tugged on the wet fabric.

Jack tossed the jeans and briefs to a corner and then motioned for Daniel to pull off his shirt. Now that he was warming up a bit, his fingers worked better. 

"You need some help getting in the tub?" Jack asked as Daniel stood on his crutches.

No, Daniel wanted to yell at him, and any other time he could have done it on his own but he felt suddenly overwhelmingly weary and he nodded. He let Jack lower him into the warm water and he shuddered against it. Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

* * * *

Jack ran more hot water into the tub as Daniel hunched over. He didn't think Daniel's shivering had as much to do with cold as with emotion. He dipped a washcloth into the water and soaped it. He touched it to Daniel's shoulders unsure of what would happen. When Daniel pushed back into the cloth, he began to rub the cloth in an ever-widening circle.

"Rough day, huh?" Jack asked after he finished with Daniel's shoulders and felt the muscles loosening. He didn't expect an answer--Daniel seemed beyond words. He handed the washcloth to Daniel and pushed himself up from his kneeling position by the tub. God, his knees were getting worse. Daniel made a few cursory swipes across his chest and then let the cloth plop back into the water. He stared straight ahead and for a few moments Jack wasn't sure if Daniel was having a flashback. The shivering had stopped nearly as soon as Daniel had gotten in the tub, so Jack wasn't quite as worried as he had been earlier. Daniel sighed and picked up the cloth again and Jack leaned against the sink. He wasn't leaving until he was sure Daniel wasn't going to fall asleep and manage to drown himself. 

Daniel looked over at him. "Enjoying the freak show?" His mouth twisted.

"Your scars?" Jack asked. "If that's the case, then no."

Daniel laughed harshly. "Never thought of this as a scar." He pointed to the stump of his right thigh. "Or haven't you noticed this?"

Oh I've noticed, Jack wanted to yell at him. "How could I enjoy seeing your...injuries?"

Daniel grabbed hold of the towel bar and pulled himself to a standing position. 

"I'm sorry," Jack said and helped Daniel from the tub. Sorry for so much. God, Danny, Jack thought, what hell you must have gone through. And none of us were there for you. You were alone. I don't know that you'll ever forgive us for that.

He handed Daniel a towel when Daniel sat.

"I used to wake up and forget," Daniel said when he began to dry his thigh. "I would try to step out of bed with my right leg and fall flat on my face before my mind would catch up with my body." He looked up at Jack. "I still feel my toes sometimes. Not my foot, not my knee, or my calf but my toes."

What could he say? Jack knew there were no words so he listened. Daniel pulled on the sweat pants and shirt Jack had gathered earlier.

"Did you know the Velerans didn't amputate my leg this far at the beginning?" Daniel rolled up the right leg and tucked it into the waistband. "Was that in any of the reports? Did they tell you that this is the result of Veleran torture gone wrong? That I nearly died from the infection?" Daniel stood and Jack backed out of the bathroom.

"Did they tell you about how I lost the eye? Or the fingers?" Daniel headed towards the kitchen on his crutches. 

Jack didn't know many of the details. The reports had been surprisingly sparse--most of the information from Paul Davis and the rescue mission, none from Daniel except for that damned signed confession. Jack put on some coffee and pulled out a chair to sit next to Daniel. "Tell me. Tell me everything."

* * * * 

"Philadelphia," Jack said. "How'd you end up there?"

Daniel looked down at his empty coffee mug and shrugged. His throat was dry and he felt drained from telling Jack about Velera--or what he remembered with clarity of Velera. "I didn't know anyone there. I think that's why they wanted me to live there."

"Nice neighborhood you were in," Jack said. 

It fell flat. Daniel felt defensive. "It was what I could afford with the allowance I was given."

"You weren't in any system. That's why..."

"Everything was off the record," Daniel said. He rubbed his forehead where a headache was blossoming behind his right eye socket. "I don't know where the money came from. It was enough to get by." He could feel Jack staring at him and didn't dare look up. "Most of the time." He didn't feel like telling about the couple of times he got sick and had to rely on Scarlett and the other neighbors finding him some antibiotics from the street. Or the first few months when the pain was so bad and his only escape had been drinking himself into oblivion. He didn't know if Jack ever needed to hear those stories. 

"Hey, you okay?" Jack placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Just a headache. I think I need some fresh air." He pulled himself up and crutched his way to the door. 

He stood on the porch, listening to the rain. Night had fallen sometime while he was telling Jack what had gone on and the storm had moved offshore. 

"Here." Jack came onto the porch carrying two lounge chairs Daniel didn't even know were in the house. He set one up for Daniel and Daniel lowered himself into it while Jack took another trip inside. Jack came out a few minutes later laden with a couple of blankets. He shook one out and settled it over Daniel. He busied himself with setting up the other chair.

"Jack." Daniel reached out to touch Jack's arm. He hadn't relied on anyone else for a long time--hadn't asked for anything but tonight he needed to know, needed to remember he was alive.

Jack didn't say a word but when he was settled in his own chair, he smiled and beckoned Daniel over. 

"It'll hold us both," Jack said to him. "Trust me."

Daniel lowered himself between Jack's legs and leaned back against Jack's chest. 

"I'm here," Jack whispered as he pulled the blankets over both of them. "I'll be here." 

Daniel closed his eye and felt Jack rubbing his thumb across his right eyebrow easing the pain, and then featherlight, a kiss like a benediction. He didn't know what lay ahead but for the moment, being held in Jack's arms was enough.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Jack stood, staring out the large window of the main house. He watched the dry grass bending against the wind as the light glint of the ocean captured the rays of the sun. He nodded, listening to Carter as she explained her latest work.

 

Rolling his eyes, Jack interrupted, "So, the signature is forged?"

 

"Yes, sir," Carter said, her voice slightly tinny over the phone. "It wasn’t apparent when it was originally examined two years ago because the technology used to forge it is quite sophisticated. In the criminal world it is called the Jefferson algorithm."

 

"The Jefferson what?" He scratched a hand through his hair.

 

"Algorithm, sir. Thomas Jefferson had a mechanical machine that would copy his signature on a second document as he signed the first. Ingenious for his time, sir.What the algorithm does it something similar. The computer program uses principals of chaotic motion and predictive motion when following the original signature of an individual."

 

Jack swallowed, sorry he asked. "Carter, thanks but let’s get back to the topic at hand. Why didn’t you figure this out two years ago when Daniel came back from hellhole of the universe?"

 

"I did examine it with the technology I had at hand at the time; but now I’ve invented a new algorithm to study the percentage of chaotic motions with respect to predictive hand motion when signing-."

 

"Once again, thanks Carter," Jack said, gripping the cell phone and thinking he might just crush it in his grasp. "Cutting to the chase here, you have every piece of evidence you need to prove it was a fake?"

 

"Yes, the document originated on Velera, sir," Carter said, clearing her throat. "But the actual signature was written on it here on Earth. When Kinsey met with the Veleran diplomat before Daniel returned home, the document must have been given to him then."

 

"Kinsey," Jack said, cursing his name.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Damn."

 

There was a moment of silence over the phone and Jack could just see Carter looking down, pensive and sorrowful.

 

"Thanks, Carter."

 

"Anytime, sir."

 

The line went dead and Jack gazed at the distant shore. He heard the swing of the door and the shuffle of steps. Jack glanced over his shoulder and saw Paul walk into his living room, coffee mug in hand.

 

"I wanted to tell you, Paul, the signature was a fake."

 

"What?"

 

Jack shook his head. "Daniel kept telling me he never signed the paper. I never thought twice about it. I figured he must have been in shock with everything that happened to him. I figured it wasn’t anything he needed to know, that he had signed the paper."

 

Paul nodded. "Yes, I remember Daniel mentioning how he never signed the paper. But the paper was the most damning evidence against him. He admitted to working to overthrow the government on Velera and his intention to not bring the technology of the Ancients back to Earth."

 

"Well, I had Carter look at it again." Jack turned from the window, denying the sunlight, the brightness of day. "It was a fake."

 

Paul grabbed hold of the mantel of the fireplace, the color seeping from his face. He raised a hand to his forehead then covered his eyes. "I gave up. I gave up trying to clear his name when I saw that signature."

 

"No, you didn’t Paul. You were damned by that signature as much as Daniel was."

 

"God, no one was more damned than Daniel."

 

Jack sank onto the sofa and leaned back. "He seems to be doing a bit better since he started to see Callie."

 

"Except for when he sees you or me."

Jack crushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and tried to get his head to stop throbbing. But the pain would not go away. Should it? Did he deserve to leave pain free when Daniel was suffering? "Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t be around."

 

Paul sat on the sofa near Jack. "He almost always has a flashback when he comes back. It is almost like it is programmed to happen."

 

"But he is better?"

 

"Definitely working toward it," Paul agreed. Thom walked into the room and asked if they would like some lunch. Paul answered for both of them. "Sure, see if Daniel’s ready to join us, love, okay?"

 

Thom put his hand on Paul’s shoulder and then went to the dining room.

 

"Maybe Callie could do group therapy for us," Jack laughed a little.

 

"Be a strange group," Paul commented.

 

They dropped into silence, but Jack couldn’t stand the unbalance of it. "You know I went up to Minnesota after Frasier died. Played sorry for myself, that I was hurt."

 

"You were injured, sir."

 

He waved Paul off. "No, I had the ‘special’ vest on. It saved me, didn’t save Janet. I sat up by that lake, turned off my phone, threw my cell phone into the lake again." Jack leaned back into the sofa’s cushions, closing his eyes. He shook his head. "Daniel was being tortured, mutila-." Jack stopped. "You know how I was finally contacted?"

 

Paul shook his head.

 

"Kinsey made sure no one was going to tell anyone who would give a damn about Daniel. Hammond was being deterred from the Mountain by being called away to Washington after his leave. Carter was being kept busy at area 51. It was Teal’c, Teal’c who found me and brought me back."

 

"Teal’c?"

 

"He stole away on Carter’s motorcycle, showed up at my door with a pack of bikers with him." Jack genuinely laughed. "He came into the cabin, bandana wrapped around his tattoo. He said to me, and I will never forget this, ‘O’Neill you will now leave your self-imposed isolation and come with the Angels of Hell back to the Mountain.’ I couldn’t even muster up a response."

 

"Teal’c? A Hell’s Angel?"

 

Jack nodded but his smile faded. "But when I returned all Hell had broken loose. Kinsey was still there waving that paper around. Daniel was in isolation. Thank God that damned bastard allowed him to have medical care. But it was too late, the dominoes were already in place."

 

"But we got Hammond back," Paul said.

 

"Yeah, we did. But not before Kinsey poisoned the Senate committee and half of the Pentagon against Daniel. The charges were in place before I even got back to Colorado." Jack smashed his fist into the arm of the sofa. "Damn, bastard, he wouldn’t even let me in the same room with him. I tried, God, I tried."

 

"We all did."

 

"But did we try hard enough? Did we believe in Daniel?" He heard a clatter and looked up to the dining room.

 

"That must be Daniel," Paul said.

 

"In the dining room?"

 

"He’s helping out painting."

 

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Painting, Daniel?"

 

Paul smiled and stood. "He offered, I thought it was a good sign."

 

Another bang came from the room and then a muffled curse. Jack raised his hand to Paul’s alarmed expression. He strode into the dining room and peered in. "Daniel?"

 

Daniel sat in the corner of the room. The table and the chairs were draped with sheets, a paint can with a roller pan and roller sat next to Daniel, along with a paint brush. The floor was covered in a plastic sheet, but Daniel’s crutches were directly across from him. There was no way for him to actually get to them without either calling for help or maneuvering over there on his butt. 

 

Jack thought at first that was the reason for Daniel’s discomfort. He realized as he looked into the room that Daniel was leaning over his leg, his stump with a grimace on his face. He was digging his fingers into his thigh, rocking back and forth as the spasm took over the leg. Jack crossed the room in a second, touching Daniel’s hand.

 

"Let me help," Jack said in a low voice.

 

Daniel kept his eyes close, his hands fully gripping his thigh. Through clenched teeth he said, "The spasm needs to be worked out."

 

Jack slid his hands underneath Daniel’s relieving him. He massaged his fingers into Daniel’s thigh, feeling the vibrations of the spasm twist the muscles. He felt for the knots, working his fingers into the core. Daniel hissed and bite into his lower lip as Jack used the pressure to ease into the muscle and release the tension.

 

Daniel heaved a breath, panting through as the tension faded and his spasm stopped. He leaned back and took several deep breaths before he opened his eyes. "Thanks, that helped. Helped a lot."

 

"Good," Jack said, grateful he could help his friend in such a minor way. He grasped Daniel’s right hand in his own, but Daniel slid away from him. "Daniel."

 

He shook his head, averting his gaze from Jack. "Don’t."

 

"Don’t?" Jack reached out and lightly touched Daniel’s hand again.

 

"Please, don’t Jack."

 

"I don’t understand? I was just helping you with your spasm."

 

"Different, that’s different." Daniel looked at his ravaged hand. "This is what I am. A freak, a thing. Like the hunchback of Notre Dame."

 

"Daniel."

 

"It’s the truth, Jack. I know what I look like. This is what I am now."

 

Jack reached out and lightly, so gently, traced the scar on Daniel’s face. Daniel nearly moved away, but Jack held onto him with his other hand. He followed the curve of the scar, the disfigurement of his friend’s face. He saw the horrid turn of the skin, the pucker and angry ugly scar. He glanced down at Daniel’s stump, at the missing fingers, then back up to Daniel’s one eye – the missing one. He cursed Kinsey once again—he couldn't help but think the loss of Daniel's confidence and soul was far worse than any physical damage.

 

"What you are?" Jack shook his head. "Not what, who. You are Daniel. This, this is just a part of your story. You’re the man who opened the Stargate. The man who knows more than 23 languages, the man who discovered so many more cultures than any scientist could imagine."

 

"This," Daniel said and laid Jack’s hand on his scarred face and held it there. "This is the end of my story."

 

"No. Can’t you see? Don’t you know?"

 

"Know?"

 

"Paul doesn’t see this. I don’t see this," Jack said. "I see Daniel, that man I described."

 

Daniel pulled away then, wrapped his arms around himself. "No, Jack, no, this thing is ugly. Don’t you know I’ve seen how everyone looks at me, sees me."

 

"Thing?" Jack’s heart hurt as he thought of Daniel, believing himself a thing, an ugly thing. "I can’t use words to convince you. You’re too stubborn for that. But what I can say is this, you could look like a freaking Unas and you would still be Daniel to me."

 

Daniel frowned and, pursing his lips, said, "What? An unas? What the hell are you talking about?"

 

"Hey, I’m not the most elegant guy here. But you get the point, right?"

 

Daniel stayed quiet for a moment, his chin resting on his one bent knee. He considered Jack and shook his head. "Right, sure."

 

Jack chuckled a bit. "That was almost touching."

 

"Almost," Daniel agreed.

 

Jack closed the span between them and laid his hand on Daniel’s face, letting his thumb rub over the scar. Meeting Daniel’s gaze, in a whisper Jack agreed. "Almost, almost."

Jack couldn't help but notice that the demons haunting Daniel were not being exorcised by talking with Callie. If anything the flashbacks seemed to be getting worse, and Daniel had developed a nervous tic of rubbing the back of his neck.

Somewhere along the line, he'd moved into the bedroom with Daniel. It had started merely as a convenience—a form of comfort as Jack wound up sitting with Daniel when he woke screaming or trembling from nightmares. The nightmares that never seemed to let up. Jack's presence didn't prevent the dreams, but Daniel sought comfort from him often falling back to sleep on Jack's chest. As the date of Daniel's doctor's appointments grew closer, Daniel wound up moving closer to Jack before he even fell asleep. There were even times he would initiate contact—a hesitant touch to Jack's arm, his leg pushing against Jack's, a stroke of his hand against Jack's back, an arm thrown over Jack's stomach. Jack kept his silence, allowed Daniel to lead in the slow awkward dance. In his heart, he held out hope. Daniel would come back to them—certainly changed and maybe not ever at the SGC, but Daniel would rejoin the people who loved him.

* * * *

Daniel didn't need to know the SGC was footing the bill for the stay at the very exclusive hotel in Boston. Jack just shrugged when Daniel asked about it. The next few days were going to be hell on Daniel—anything that could be done to bring him ease was worth it in Jack's opinion. And it wasn't as if Daniel wasn't owed the price. At the moment though, Daniel was in the bathroom, throwing up the meal Jack was sorry he insisted Daniel try to eat. 

Jack knocked before entering, "You decent?"

Daniel turned to him from his place on the floor. His glasses had been discarded at some point. "If by that you mean clothed, yeah. If you mean..." He turned back to the toilet dry-heaving. 

Jack moved closer, got on the floor beside him, and risked a slow back rub. He felt more than heard Daniel's sigh.

"You think you can make it to your bed?" 

"Kinda stupid, huh?" Daniel said and leaned back into Jack. "I mean, good for me, right? See what the doctors can do for me?"

Jack rested his hand against Daniel's forehead, smiling as the other man made a quiet sound of contentment. "I think what you're going through is normal."

"Help me up?" Daniel asked and moved forward.

Jack knew he'd regret getting on the floor but he hid the twinges as he stood. Last thing he needed was Daniel feeling guilt on any level for any of Jack's discomfort.

He extended a hand to Daniel, pulled him up, and then stood behind him while he brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth multiple times.

When Daniel undressed and finally lay in bed, Jack sat beside him until he lost the fight against sleep. Jack could only hope Daniel would have a night free from dreams.

* * * *

"No, it's okay. Jack can stay," Daniel said to the young woman who'd identified herself as Renee pulled a rolling chair in front of him.

"You've never had a prosthetic eye before?" she asked as she pulled on sterile gloves.

Daniel shook his head and removed the eyepatch when she motioned for him to do so. She moved closer and placed her finger on his lower lid. He forced himself to sit still.

"This may feel strange, but it's not going to hurt," she said. "If you feel any pain at all while I'm working I want you to tell me right away."

Daniel closed his other eye when he saw her pick up something that resembled a small plunger.

"You're gonna stick that in his eye?" Jack asked. He sounded as if he thought it was rather cool.

"Are you sure you want him to stay?" Renee asked Daniel quietly.

"Behave yourself, Jack," Daniel said. "And yes, I want him to stay." 

Jack fell silent and then Daniel felt warm fingers wrap around his own.

"Things may feel a little strange for a bit," Renee said. "I'm going to be making a mold."

Strange wasn't quite the word for it. Weird was better. Daniel could feel his eyelid resting on the shaft of the plunger and then something was filling his eye socket. 

"It's going to take about five minutes or so for the substance to harden," Renee said. "And then we'll remove it. I'll make a wax impression and then we'll do some more fitting."

"We have an appointment with Doctor Bennett at ten," Jack said.

"You can come back after that," Renee said. "We'll get the fitting done then. And by tomorrow, we'll be ready for the real thing."

Daniel was relieved when the whole process of removing the mold was over, although he didn't tell Jack it was the next appointment he dreaded the most.

* * * *

By the time Doctor Bennett had finished his exam of Daniel's leg, Daniel was shaking. The last time, he kept telling himself even though he knew it was foolish, the last time, he'd been in a setting anywhere close to this, he'd lost his leg. Even Jack's presence wasn't helping.

"Doctor, I think Daniel needs a few moments." Daniel was aware of Jack saying softly.

"Of course," Bennett said. "You can join me in my office when you're ready."

Daniel looked at Jack when the door closed behind the doctor. 

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"I'll be fine. Just, lots of memories I'd rather forget." He pulled on his jeans and found when he got on his crutches that he was rather shaky.

Jack placed his hand on the back of Daniel's neck and rubbed his thumb into the tight muscles there. Daniel let the warmth seep into his skin, allowed himself to come back to the present. 

"I'm ready," he said to Jack a few minutes later. "Thank you."

"I'm always here for you, you know that, right?" There was no trace of anything but sincerity in Jack's tone.

"Yeah. I know," Daniel told him. He waited as Jack opened the door for him and then went into Bennett's office.

Doctor Bennett looked up when Daniel and Jack entered. He smiled and came around his desk and sat perched on the edge of it.

"I reviewed your files and I noticed you didn't go through any sort of rehab once you returned to the States," Doctor Bennett said. "That you refused any further treatment other than some check-ups to make sure there was no further infection or any problems."

Daniel nodded and looked down at the floor. He could sense Jack shift beside him, sense the sudden tension in Jack's body even though he wasn't looking at him.

"Your residual limb is healthy," Doctor Bennett continued, "but if you want to use a prosthetic leg, you're going to need surgery to revise the stump."

"Surgery?" Daniel's heart began to pound at the thought. "Revise?"

Bennett nodded. "Although there was an adequate job done on the initial amputation, it's apparent there was no consideration of you actually being able to put weight on it. The limb needs to be reshaped surgically."

No, Daniel thought, no, there wouldn't have been. The Velerians had no thought of making an convicted criminal like Daniel able to walk again on two legs.

"...second opinion," Doctor Bennett was saying when Daniel finally tuned back in.

"No," Daniel said sharply. "You were recommended as the best in the area. I believe you."

Doctor Bennett smiled kindly. "I know this is a big decision for you, especially since you appear to get along on your crutches. I think you're an excellent candidate for a prosthetic limb—you're young, healthy, and fit. You will have more rehab necessary than if the amputation was below the knee but other than that, I foresee no problem with you learning to use an above the knee prosthetic. However there's no need to rush into surgery if you choose to wait."

"Daniel can call..." Jack began.

Daniel shook his head and then took a deep breath. "I want the surgery. I want..." He couldn't continue.

"We're staying in the city for a few days," Jack said when Daniel wasn't able to speak. "Will you be able to give us a date before we go back to Cape Cod?"

Bennett nodded. "Leave your number with the desk. They'll start the paperwork, etc. They'll also set up an appointment for you to meet with a prosthetist. I like my patients to have a meeting beforehand so that we can work together as a team."

"How long a recovery are we looking at?" Jack asked. Daniel was glad he was talking because he didn't think he had enough saliva in his mouth to speak.

"Maybe a week in the hospital and fitting with a temporary prosthesis within twelve weeks. You're in very good shape, Daniel and that will help."

He stood and held out his hand. Daniel shook it and looked at him. He wasn't a Veleran doctor, Danel told himself. This time a doctor was going to help.

As he'd been instructed, he spoke to the receptionist at the front desk, leaving both Jack's cell phone and the hotel room numbers. By the time they left Doctor Bennett's offices, Daniel's shirt was plastered to his back with sweat.

"You okay?" Jack asked and motioned towards a bench in the lobby. "You're kinda pale."

"I'm fine," Daniel said. He ignored the bench and kept moving. "I'll be fine. We can go back to the ocularist--Renee said the impression would be done by now."

* * * * 

Daniel sat on a chair across from Renee. She held up a wax impression of Daniel's eye socket. 

"This is what we'll use as a mold to make the eye," she explained. "I have to insert it to make sure we have the correct fit. If anything hurts, I want you to tell me right away. There might be pressure in places. I need to know that too."

Jack watched as Daniel wiped his hands over his jeans. He reached up and took off the eye-patch. Renee moved her hand closer and Daniel reared his head back. Renee stopped.

"Whenever you're ready," she said, her voice calm and quiet. 

Jack could see Daniel's breathing quicken slightly.

"Okay," Daniel said, but at Renee's approach he pulled back again.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he muttered. Jack didn't like the way Daniel's voice shook slightly. He moved behind him and placed his hands on Daniel's shoulders. 

"I'm here," he said. 

* * * * 

Renee had promised it wouldn't hurt, and it didn't. It just felt...odd. Something there where he hadn't felt anything for two years. He responded to Renee's questions about pressure and lost track of the times the impression was inserted and removed from his eye. Finally Renee said the eye itself was ready to be made.

"It's going to take about an hour. You can go get something to eat and then come back for the final fitting."

He and Jack found a small cafe a few blocks away and had a quiet lunch. Daniel wasn't in the mood to talk and Jack seemed to sense his need for quiet. 

By the time they got back, Renee held up a plastic insert. "This is it." 

"It's blank," Jack said.

Renee smiled. "Yes. For now. We need to make sure it fits before I do the finishing work."

Daniel sat down on the chair he'd been using all day and he and Renee went through the same process they'd used for the wax impression. Finally she scooted her stool around to Daniel's side and put a mirror on the table. "Let's see if you like the way it looks."

Daniel had avoided mirrors for the better part of two years and he certainly tried to avoid looking at his face as much as possible. He stared at his face--at the scar, at his two eyes. Granted one was clear, but he knew the eye-patch would be gone for good. He nodded his approval and then blinked as Renee instructed. 

The finishing work consisted of Renee marking the eye while it was still in his socket and then removing it to drill a hole and paint it by closely looking at his remaining eye.

"You sure you can't make it like a cat eye or something?" Jack asked. 

"Jack."

"What? You gotta admit it would be cool."

Finally it was done. Renee placed the eye back in the socket and handed Daniel the mirror. When he looked this time, there were two blue eyes staring back at him. 

"Beautiful," Jack said when he turned to face him. He understood when Jack turned away and coughed. 

"Let's celebrate," Jack said as they left Renee's office. "Go out to dinner. Although I still think the cat eye or maybe a cyborg eye would have been way cooler."

* * * * 

They found a restaurant near the hotel--nothing fancy, just a place with a decent seafood menu and fairly quiet so early in the evening. They were still waiting for a table when Jack's cell rang. The maitre-d pointed to a sign and Jack nodded. He went out to answer the call. He wasn't surprised when Daniel followed. 

"It's for you," Jack told him and waited while Daniel took the call.

"Yes, yes, I understand. No. I can make it. Yes. Got it. Thank you." Daniel hung up the call and handed the phone back to Jack. His hand was shaking.

"The surgery is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. I have an appointment with a Jerry Quentin tomorrow at three. He's a prosthetist and will do the initial consult." Daniel's voice was flat.

"You okay with all this?" Jack asked. "Because if you're not..."

"I didn't think it would be so soon," Daniel said. He shook his head quickly when Jack opened his mouth. "And no, I don't want to re-schedule for a later date. If I don't go through with this now, I never will." He gave a small smile but Jack knew it was forced. He also knew that with Daniel, the man would damn well talk about stuff when he was good and ready. So he held open the door for Daniel and they both went back into the restaurant.

They did talk during the wait and during the meal although nothing was ever said about what they'd done during this day and what was in the future except for one time when Jack mentioned that Daniel's prosthetic eye moved nearly in concert with the real one. 

"It doesn't look fake?" Daniel took a bite of his baked potato.

"No. It really doesn't. I mean, I guess if someone really stared at you and was keeping direct eye contact, he could tell. It's kinda cool."

Daniel busied himself with cutting his baked potato in tiny pieces. "That's me, Mister Cool."

Jack knew when it was time to change the subject. He kept the conversation light and focused on what he could do to keep Daniel busy until the appointment tomorrow afternoon. They finally settled on going to the Peabody-Essex museum in Salem. Museums were good, Jack thought, and he wouldn't even complain if Daniel started giving him a lecture while they were touring.

* * * *

The day sped by quickly and all too soon they were outside Jerry Quentin's office which was located near the hospital. 

Daniel looked a bit pale, Jack thought, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't begin to understand what Daniel had gone through on Velera. Daniel had been alone--when he needed his friends the most, Daniel had been alone. It made Jack feel sick.

He watched Daniel take a deep breath and then enter through the automatic doors. Jack followed--right where he needed to be.

* * * * 

"He knows his stuff," Daniel said as they ate dinner in the hotel room. They were already in sweats, and Daniel didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to stay awake despite his anxiety about the next day. He pushed the print-out Jerry had given him around the table. The leg was designed for an active user--Jerry had shown Jack and him a video of people with various above knee prosthetics to highlight the advantages of each.

Daniel didn't know what it was going to feel like to stand on two feet again, even if one wasn't real. By the time Jerry had interviewed him about his wants and needs regarding the prosthetic, helped Daniel decide on a model, and then set up an appointment to visit Daniel in the hospital, Daniel was exhausted. Everything seemed to be moving too fast and yet he knew if he didn't move forward, he wouldn't move at all.

"Do you want Paul and Thom here tomorrow?" Jack asked him.

Daniel looked up in surprise. "I don't know."

"They care about you," Jack said as if it would be a revelation to Daniel. He looked down at the print-out, traced a long finger along the line of the pictured leg. "I care about you."

"I don't think I'll be much company after surgery," Daniel said. "I don't want to cause any..."

"I don't think Paul or Thom would look at being here with you for a few days as trouble," Jack told him, not unkindly.

Daniel finally nodded and pulled back the paper. He looked down at it and tried to imagine and failed miserably.

* * * *

Jack sat on his bed and watched Daniel sleep. In sleep, the lines on Daniel's face relaxed, he appeared more like the Daniel Jack remembered. In sleep, Jack could forget. Daniel sighed and turned onto his side, the blanket twisting around his legs. Jack went over, pulled the blanket up, and sat down on the side of the bed--keeping watch as he'd done on countless missions. He prayed Daniel's sleep would continue to be dreamless this night.

* * * *

Oh yeah. Daniel was feeling good. He smiled dopily at Jack as he entered the room. 

"I like that nurse," Daniel said, waggling his fingers at Jack. "She gave me medicine."

"Did she? I never would have guessed." Jack covered Daniel's hand with his own. 

"Jack?"

"Daniel."

"If I...you can have my eye. Y'know. To remin...rebem...think of me."

Jack didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry at the comment. "I don't think I'd ever forget you, Danny," he told him. "Not ever."

"Good."

Jack thought Daniel might have fallen asleep from the pre-op meds but then Daniel looked at him.

"I love you, Jack. You know that. Paul said I...that I... I do. Love you." Daniel trailed off and blinked a few times. 

"I love you too," Jack said, his heart pounding just a bit faster. He bent down and kissed Daniel lightly on the lips. "Always."

"Nice," Daniel slurred. "Like that."

"I do too." Jack squeezed Daniel's fingers gently and waited with a drowsing Daniel until the nurses came to wheel him to surgery.

* * * * 

"What the hell is taking so long?" 

Paul looked up from the book he was reading to a pacing Jack. He made a show of turning his wrist to look at his watch. "It's only been an hour since he was taken back to surgery. They might not even have him in the OR yet." Okay, that hadn't been the best thing to say. "I'll go get us all some coffee."

"Tea," Thom said without looking up from his sketchpad. "Herbal if they have it. Green if they don't."

"Yes, dear," Paul said and kissed him. He hid his grin at Jack's scowl. Like Jack O'Neill could ever fool anybody about his feelings for Daniel.

When he came back with two cups of coffee and green tea, Jack had finally deigned to sit down. Thank goodness because his pacing had slowly been driving Paul nuts. He handed a cup to Jack who managed what Paul supposed was a smile although it looked more like a grimace. Thom abandoned the sketchbook for the cup of tea. Paul glanced at it and then at Jack who was looking at the sketch, his dark eyes glittering more than they should. The sketch was of Daniel, but Thom had managed to incorporate the new prosthetic leg from the brochure Jack had laid on the table earlier into the picture. Jack turned his head away and coughed. Paul said nothing, his own throat tighter than it should be.

* * * * 

"Mr. O'Neill?" 

Jack looked up from his half drowse to see Doctor Bennett standing beside his chair. "The surgery?"

"It went very well," Doctor Bennett said. "Daniel's in recovery at the moment. You'll be able to see him when we get him settled back in his room in about an hour or so."

Jack stood and held out his hand. "Thank you."

Doctor Bennett shook his hand. "You're welcome."

Jack sat back down when the doctor left and looked over at Paul and Thom. Both were smiling and Paul was wiping his eyes unashamedly. Jack excused himself then and went to the restroom down the hall. He went in a stall and sat down, let his tears fall unbidden.

* * * *


	18. Chapter 17

In his groggy, half awake state, Daniel wondered why the nurse hadn’t asked him about his pain. He couldn’t place the room or the faces. No one looked at him. When he tried to catch their attention, they purposefully turned away. He moaned a little, and tried to place exactly what had happened?

 

Was he sick again? Was it possible Oma returned him with his appendix and he had to have it removed again? His body felt numb but at the same time jabs of pain throbbed up his leg threatening to take his breath away. He couldn’t even call out to them to tell them he was awake, that he needed something for the pain.  
It felt like his leg was on fire. Why wasn’t anyone asking him about his pain? He opened his mouth as a nurse walked by, she glanced at him. 

He murmured, "Help me."

She frowned and ignored him.

"What ha-happen-ned?" 

She didn’t answer his plea for information and, instead, turned away from him. Straining, he turned his head to get a look at his surroundings. This wasn’t the infirmary at the SGC. Was he injured off world? Was he in an off world hospital? 

"Please," he gulped. Sweat streaked down his face as he fought to form the words. "Pain, I’m in pain."

The nurse glared at him. She examined his i.v. and fleetingly investigated his lower body. "Yes, I see."

What had happened? What was wrong with his leg? 

Tears blurred his eyes and he gripped the sheet as a flood of pain crashed into him. Blinded by the very nerves screaming in his leg, Daniel shook his head from side to side. "Please, the pain, the pain."

"You’re supposed to be in pain, Doctor Jackson." 

The voice was all too familiar. His Trainer. The past days on Velera came back, drowning him in a tidal wave of pain and despair. His words garbled by the knives cutting his nerves, he groaned out. 

No, he was on Velera. 

Amputation. They’d amputated his leg, sterilely, surgically, but now after they were not giving him anything for the pain.

"I’ve been kind, so far, Doctor Jackson. I’ve allowed them to give you a full course of antibiotics so that we may save your life." The man snickered. "Pain medication is something you will need to earn."

"Please," Daniel cried. They chopped off his leg. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He could still feel his leg, surely it was there. But his logical, rational mind, the one that rattled off to Jack what radiation poisoning would do to his body with dispassionate scientific tone, told him that his leg was gone. This was phantom feelings, his leg was gone.

"Doctor Jackson," the Trainer said as he waved away the nurse. "You may earn pain medication if you simply sign the document verifying your guilt and indicating that the children of the Frendari are, in fact, a lower species of humans."

Squeezing his eyes closed, Daniel sank into the ocean of pain and allowed it to take him. He would never sign a document which would condemn children to treatment as animals. He would never sell his soul so that Kinsey and his ilk could get their hands on the Ancient repository. He refused to allow what happened here on Velera to spread over Earth. Earth cultures were vulnerable to prejudices and discrimination.   
Over the rush of throbbing blood in his ears, Daniel said, "No."

"Take him back to his cell." 

The gurney was shoved through the automatic white doors, though the orderlies did not wait until the door opened. The gurney struck the door on the way out of the recovery room and the jolt slammed through his body. He whimpered.

The swirl of the hallways caused dizziness and blackouts to wash over him. He tried to reach out to the orderly, but the man pulled away acting as if Daniel was contaminated with a killing plague. He tried to close his eyes to ward off the motion of the gurney, but it only intensified the pain pounding through his thigh.  
Daniel recognized the beeping as they input the code to open his cell door. They maneuvered the gurney into the narrow space. Glancing at the hard pallet on the side of the cell, he dreaded trying to find comfort there. They unbuckled his restraints. Yet, the orderlies did not swing around the gurney to pick him up and lay him on the hard cot. He felt a slight shift of the gurney’s inclination and suddenly, it tilted and he was dumped onto the floor. A primal cry escaped his lips and he sobbed and crumpled onto the floor. The door slid shut and he was left in the dark.

Alone.

No one had ever come for him. Jack had never come.

He cried, letting the tears come. There was no reason to hide them. In the dark he whispered to no one, "Help me, help."

"Daniel?"

He continued to the shadows, his memories. "Help me, the pain."

"Do you need something for the pain?" A hand wrapped around his fingers. "I’m here. Nurse? Nurse?"

He pretended to feel the touch, hear the voice of Jack. "They cut it off, they cut it off."

‘Shh, shh," the ghost Jack said. "Nurse, is he supposed to be in this much pain? Can we give him something for it?"

His blurry vision seemed off, flat, one dimensional. "They cut it off. It hurts. I need something, something."

"Daniel, I’m here," the ghost Jack leaned over him. "I’m right here, you’re right here. You’re not there, you’re here with me in the hospital. That happened two years ago."

Two years? What?

He felt the weight of Jack against his body as he moved in the hospital bed. A nurse came over and handed him a small cylinder tube that was connected to his i.v. line.  
"Doctor Jackson, you can press this button anytime the pain gets uncomfortable. Please feel free to use it. You cannot overdose yourself. It won’t let you." She grasped his hand and smiled gently. Her wrinkled face and white hair seemed angelic to him.

As she disappeared from view, Jack bent over him again. "You’re home, Daniel, you’re with me."

"Home," Daniel whispered and closed his eyes.

* * * *

"I lost my leg, then I lost my fingers, then they scarred my face," Daniel whispered. The lights from the monitors in the hospital room illuminated with a slight bluish glow. Jack stayed quiet as his friend spoke. "They took my eye last."

Jack knew a little of the story from what Kinsey called debriefs but what Jack now called interrogations. He also recalled how Daniel had woken up terrified with memories of losing his eye taunting his nightmares. 

"You know, Kinsey made it about the Ancient repository. He insisted it was the Lost City." Daniel grimaced as he shifted in the bed. "It wasn’t, isn’t.’ He gave a small laugh. "Did you know, I figured it out. I know what it means now, the Lost City." 

Jack raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Daniel had spilled all to him a few weeks back and it seemed that now the floodgates had opened, Daniel needed to revisit things over and over again. It was Daniel's way of healing, Jack knew. Purging and processing and maybe finding peace. 

"I tried to get someone to listen to me," Daniel pulled at the sheet. "Did you know Hammond took a few weeks off after Janet died?" He gave a rough smile. "He felt it was his fault in a way, sending her into the field."

Jack nodded. The situation was the perfect storm for Daniel. His friends dispersed, his Commanding General on leave, there had not been an advocate at the SGC for Daniel. Kinsey had chosen that moment to swoop in and try and take control. Daniel was a casualty and Jack still planned on getting back at Kinsey—the true traitor in the whole mess. And just how would the media love to jump some judiciously placed information? 

"Imagine my surprise when I contacted Earth to find Kinsey answering the call? Daniel pushed back in the pillows. "I tried to reason with him. I told him about the caste system, how we shouldn’t deal with people who didn’t believe in basic human rights for the most vulnerable of their population, the children."

"He couldn’t see past the possibilities of weapons," Daniel looked at Jack for the first time. "The children of the lower caste, the Frendari, were literally considered lower than animals. They were merely tolerated in the society because of their roles to do the dirty work."

"And?"

"The lower caste does all the dirty jobs, but especially the dangerous ones. Children fit places adults can't." Daniel shook his head. "It was well hidden but obvious at the same time. Once we found out about it I contacted the SGC right away."

"And the resistance?"

"The resistance tried to make life better for the children." He closed his eyes. "They did things, things that were violent and wrong, but it was about the children. They never even tried to help themselves as adults." A single tear stained his face. "Kendall helped the resistance take out an army of what the Velerians called the Cleaners." 

"The Cleaners?" Jack knew not to make any sarcastic remarks, now. This was too important.

"You know one of those forces known by the locals as the dirty part of the army, but outsiders have no idea they exist."

Jack twisted his hands together, images floated up beckoning him to a time in his life when he was part of a very similar organization.

"When I explained everything to Kinsey and he asked the officials about it," Daniel laughed but it was a hollow sound. "They denied it, of course. And that was enough for Kinsey. The greedy bastard."

"I had to try and save him," Daniel said and Jack knew he was talking about Kendall. He raked his hands through his hair and then covered his face. "And now, I wonder if it was worth it all." Daniel took in a shuddering breath. "I try and see the balance, the reason for it all. I wanted to save a boy, but I-I."

"You lost so much."

Daniel swallowed hard and kept his face covered with his hands. "There are times I want to take it all back," he confessed. "I want to take it back. I don’t want to do it. I want to pretend like Kinsey that the Cleaners didn’t exist, that Kendall was an evil thing lower than animals."

Jack stood from the chair and slowly eased himself onto the side of Daniel’s bed. He said in soft tones, "Daniel."

"I want to take it back, sometimes." Daniel groaned as if he fought not to scream out his frustration. "Sometimes, maybe all the time."

Jack grasped Daniel’s hand. "I know."

Daniel didn’t reply.

"You shouldn’t feel guilty, Daniel." Jack was staring at the blunted fingers, wondering if they’d given him any pain relief when they’d chopped off part of his hand. "You’re only human, you know."

"But he was a boy, he deserved more," Daniel said.

"You gave them everything for him, Daniel."

"Except signing that paper."

"Do you really think they would have released the boy if you had signed it?" Jack kept his focus on Daniel’s eyes, not letting him break his gaze.

Daniel finally glanced away, and murmured, "No, no, they wouldn’t have."

"You showed Kendall someone cared enough to try," Jack held onto Daniel’s hand speaking lowly. "That is the most important thing." Images of Charlie bubbled to the surface and Jack recognized a nearly parental loss in Daniel’s mourning. He gathered Daniel to him, knowing the emotional toll of the confession had broken down Daniel’s defenses enough for Jack to touch him, comfort him. He held on, holding onto Daniel until the younger man drifted off to sleep.

Gently, he laid Daniel down, being careful not to jar his leg. He lightly brushed his hand through Daniel’s short hair. "Good night, Daniel." 

Jack only wished he could take away his part in Daniel’s pain.


	19. Chapter 18

Daniel knocked on Callie's door after Thom took himself upstairs to his studio. He appreciated that she'd flown up from DC. Even though he and Callie had agreed that cutting back on sessions would be acceptable, he had to admit he'd be glad to see her. 

"Come in, Daniel," she called. He nudged the door open with the footrest of the wheelchair.

She stood up as he entered and came from behind the desk. "Welcome back."  
Her smile was warm. "How's everything going from the surgery?" She gestured at his leg. "Is there a reason for the wheelchair?"

Daniel leaned forward a bit, shifting his weight. "Doctor Bennett said things are healing as they should . The wheelchair is just a precaution. With the snow and ice, Doctor Bennett doesn't want me chancing a fall outside." He looked down at his thigh, aware of the bandages underneath his sweatpants. "I, uh, thought I'd be used to..."

"Used to...?" Callie asked softly.

"They had to revise the stump," he explained, not looking at her. "Shape it so I would be able to use an artificial limb. The other surgery was...uh..." His heart gave a little flutter and he took a deep breath before he continued. "The other surgery was meant only to maim, not to allow any sort of recovery."

"And this surgery required what?"

"They took a few more inches from my thigh," Daniel said in a rush. "It shouldn't matter to me, should it? I mean, I lost the leg 2 years ago--and it was above the knee to begin with so it's not like I lost anything more."

"Except you did."

Daniel was silent. He shifted his gaze to Callie's desk, to the assortment of brightly colored pens she kept in a small cup a child had made. "Yeah," he finally admitted. "Except I did."

* * * *

Callie watched Daniel closely. He'd become more anxious as their session progressed--agitated even. He reached up and began to rub at the back of his neck again--a habit he'd seemingly developed over the past month. 

"Daniel?" Callie asked when it appeared he'd lost track of their conversation.

"Yes?" He looked up at her and she mentally adjusted to seeing a Daniel without an eyepatch once again. "Um. Sorry. I must have been daydreaming."

She nodded. "We were talking about Jack. About your relationship with him before your imprisonment."

There it was again. He moved his hand to his neck. "Jack and I..." his voice trailed off.

Callie decided to try another tack. "You've been rubbing your neck a lot," she pointed out.

Daniel frowned. "I have?" He pulled his hand back down and placed it on his lap. "I guess I have."

"Any reason why?"

"I don't think so...I just was rubbing my neck. I'm not..."

"Not what?"

"Crazy," he said in a rush. "I just..there's something I should remember."

"Something about Jack?" When he just stared at her, she continued. "You rub your neck every time we talk about Jack."

"I think it's just a nervous habit. I don't think it has anything to do with J...J...J..." 

Daniel looked terrified as he wasn't able to get the name out, and then to Callie's horror, his eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp. Callie reached him just in time in order to prevent his head from hitting the floor as hard as the rest of his body had. She turned him to his side. She called out, hoping that Thom would hear her in his studio.

"What's going on?" Thom Reilly appeared at the door. He had a cell phone in his hand. His face blanched at the sight of Daniel unconscious and unresponsive and he stepped out of the doorway and talked urgently on the phone.

"There," Callie soothed as Daniel's eye opened and he blinked a few times. She grabbed a tissue and wiped his mouth. "We've called for an ambulance." She looked at Thom for confirmation and then moved slightly and motioned for Thom to come over. 

"Ah..." Daniel didn't seem to be able to get his mouth working and Callie worried. She kept her face impassive though.

"You passed out, Daniel," she said and motioned for Thom to take her place by Daniel's side. He did so, taking Daniel's hand in his with no hesitation. 

She glanced at his leg, worried that perhaps he'd done some damage when he'd fallen off the wheelchair, but at least there was no sign of blood.

It wasn't long until the EMTs were knocking at Thom's door and Callie went to let them in, filling them in as quickly as she could.

Within a few minutes, Daniel was bundled onto a gurney. He still seemed out of it, unable to answer even a few simple questions. 

"We've already called for air transport," one of the EMTs said. He glanced down at Daniel's obvious amputation. "He military?"

Thom nodded. "He worked as a civilian consultant until a few years ago."

The EMT nodded. "He's being transported to Mass General," he said as they began wheeling Daniel from the office. 

Callie picked up the phone. "You get home, Thom. I'll call the others and let them know what's going on."

She watched as Thom left and took a deep breath when she heard General O'Neill's voice on the other end of the line.

"General, there's been an incident."

* * * * 

Jack did not want to remember the drive to Boston. He was grateful Thom drove--not as grateful for the way Thom would reach over to Paul every so often and rub his thumb over Paul's hand. It reminded him too much of Daniel. His calls to the hospital were useless--they wouldn't give any information over the phone. Hell, he didn't know if they'd even give information once he got there. He phoned Doctor Bennett's office only to find out the man was on a vacation somewhere in the Caribbean. He finally broke down and called Doctor Warner in Colorado, hoping the other man would be able to open some doors or had some connections that would get Jack the information he needed.

Warner called back just as they were finding a parking spot. "Doctor Jamison-she'll be Doctor Jackson's neurologist. She's the best." Jack heard him take a breath. "Good luck, sir, and let Doctor Jackson know there are a lot of people who miss him."

Jack said something in reply although he couldn't have said what. He was strangely touched by Warner's wishes. Please, he thought, as he followed Paul and Thom, please let Daniel be okay.

* * * * 

"I'm fine," Daniel said, arms crossed over his chest. "Maybe I didn't eat enough or something like that, but I'm fine."

"Why don't we let the doctor make that call?" Jack commented. He got a one-fingered salute for his pains. Okay so it didn't appear that there was any brain damage.

"I don't want to stay here." Daniel started to get out of the bed.

"Please, Danny." Jack put out a hand to make him stay in place. "Just let Jamison finish the tests she wants to run."

Daniel slid his gaze away from Jack's and to his leg. He looked up at Jack and gave a sharp nod. "One day, that's it."

Jack nodded and then looked around the room. "So, wanna play I Spy?"

* * * *

"I told you there was nothing wrong," Daniel said as he settled himself in the back seat of Paul and Thom's car the following day. The effect was somewhat softened as he let go a huge yawn.

"Yes, dear," Jack said, the comment drawing a snort from Paul. He got a half-heated punch to the arm from Daniel. Jamison had found nothing--and even if she'd wanted to run more tests, which Jack was sure she did, Daniel had refused. 

As Thom drove skillfully through the heavy traffic, Jack noticed Daniel blinking sleepily. He tapped Daniel on the back of his hand and Daniel looked his way in surprise. Jack tapped his own shoulder. Daniel shook his head but then sighed as Jack did it again. He rearranged his body and rested his head on Jack's shoulder, a warm, heavy, surprisingly comforting feeling, Jack noticed. Jack put his arm up, around Daniel's shoulders. Daniel rested his right hand against Jack's. Jack was strangely touched by that act of trust. He rubbed his thumb against Daniel's palm and then covered the Daniel's fingers with his own. "Go to sleep," he whispered then. "I'll be here."

* * * * *

   
Jack was due back tonight.

Glancing out the window of the cottage, Daniel scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried not to worry about the ass. A Nor'easter raced up the coast and the idiot had decided to fly in, instead of just staying put in Washington. Daniel knew Jack had to go to DC – he was a General. Generals had important things to do, or at least people to bother.

He swung the wheelchair around, skirting the edge of the table and going into the small kitchen area. He was not going to worry about the idiot. He wasn’t. Turning briefly, he looked out the window again to see the raging icy winds pelt the glass.

"Damn it, Jack." Daniel shook his head and dismissed the coffee he was going to hobble about the kitchen to make. He’d argued with Jack and told him not to come back this week. It really wasn’t necessary, but Jack had for all intents and purposes moved into the cottage with Daniel and flew to Washington or Colorado as needed. What Jack was doing on those trips was something Daniel never asked. Just the thought of that was nuts in and of itself, but traveling in this weather? Certifiable.

Daniel pulled the chair into the living room area and peered out the window, his vision lost in the white outs. It was his fault Jack insisted on coming back. His fault Jack had decided Daniel could not remain alone. The flashbacks, and now the seizures were getting worse. Anytime work took Jack away from Daniel, the idiot worried himself into a stink about it. By the time Jack was back in Massachusetts, he was a regular grizzly bear to be around, until he could turn into a mother hen and take care of some little needs of Daniel’s. It was pathetic, ridiculous, and nice.

"Nice," Daniel whispered. He rubbed at the back of his neck again. Why the tingling? The neurologist couldn’t find anything wrong. No one could. Why the seizures? And why only when Jack was in Massachusetts, near, close to Daniel? He didn’t have to be in the same room for a seizure to happen, but somehow they were triggered by Jack’s presence or something. He hadn’t told Jack that little tidbit, he hadn’t told anyone. He didn’t even like to admit it to himself.

He really needed to take his mind off the damned weather for a while. He situated the wheel chair next to the couch and pulled himself into the cushioned seat. Reaching, he grabbed the remote control and flicked on the television. Of course, a ton of sporting events were on. Oh yippee! Daniel rolled his eyes, thinking of Jack and how he called for a satellite dish so they could receive all the hockey games! Wasn’t that a treasure?

Daniel laughed a bit to himself. He switched the channel to CNN, tossed the remote down and picked up a book. It explored the intricacies of the Arthurian legend and the medieval church. He made a few scribbles in the book as he half listened to the news.

It was the repeated headline that caught his attention. It was repeated a dozen times before Daniel dropped his pen and swore. Just as the realization hit, Jack opened the door to the cabin and said, "Lucy, I’m home."

"Son of a bitch, Jack, what did you do?"

Jack raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, not Lucy, how about Laverne?"

"What?" Daniel struggled to get himself into the chair, but it seemed inadequate for the moment.  When he finally got into the damned contraption, he wheeled himself to his less used crutches and grabbed them.

"Okay so, Laverne is out too." Jack ignored him, shaking his clothes of snow and ice. "It was damned near impossible to see a thing out there on the roads."

"Roads? What?" Daniel said and he heaved himself to stand.

"I drove up; do you think they let planes off the ground in this stuff? Sixteen hours of joyous fun."

"You drove?" Daniel said, momentarily sidetracked.

"Yeah, my flight was canceled late last night since the storm is supposed to last the whole day so I got in the car and drove up. The roads are empty so that helped, a bit."

"You are a fool, Jack."

"Well, that’s nearly nice. Perhaps you can get to the part where you just say Jack every time I say Daniel and we can forgo all the sweet nicknames you seem to have for me today."

Just as Daniel was about to reply, the headline blared from the television again. "Vice President Kinsey is dead at the age of 68."

The room swallowed up the rest of the report as it detailed the automobile accident, as it told how Kinsey careened off an embankment. The reporter stood near the broken guard rail, the wind lashing at him as he detailed how the car flipped and ended up bursting into flames. Kinsey hadn’t died at the scene of the crash, but several hours later in the hospital from wounds and third degree burns. Foul play was not suspected, but alcohol bottles had been found at the scene of the crash.

Jack walked over to the television and turned it off. He grasped his hands together and said, "How about a nice cup of hot chocolate? I got some nice stuff at that chocolate store I was telling you about in Frederick, Maryland."

"No."

Jack’s back was turned to him and Daniel could see his shoulders physically sink. "Don’t do this, Daniel."

"Do what?"

Jack faced him and shook his head, pointing at the blank television. "This, just don’t."

"You did it, didn’t you? I told you not to do anything to Kinsey."

"Do what? It sounds to me like Kinsey couldn’t hold his liquor."

"The Vice President driving by himself in the middle of a snow storm and liquored up?"

"Stranger things have happened," Jack said and went into the kitchen with his bag. He started to dig through it as Daniel followed.

"He was the vice president."

"Not my fault, I didn’t vote for him. In fact, I think I was off world at the time." Jack busied himself with the warming milk as he pulled out the chocolate mix.

"I asked you not to do anything."

"*I* didn’t."

Daniel considered Jack. They stood staring at one another, evaluating unstated words, weighing the knowns and unknowns. Something shivered through Daniel as he met Jack’s gaze, as he clearly saw the Special Ops man before him. Jack knew people, knew things Daniel did not. There were some things better left unspoken and unquestioned.

Daniel nodded as he glanced away not able to meet Jack’s eyes at that moment. "Okay, sure, right." Daniel shifted and moved to the living room, tumbling to the couch.

Silence pervaded the large room, only the slight sounds of Jack preparing the hot chocolate interrupted Daniel’s thoughts. His thoughts would not gather, were not cohesive enough to formulate an argument or an acceptance of what he knew.

After a few quiet minutes, Jack walked into the room with a tray in hand. Not only did the tray have steaming hot chocolate with whipped cream, but sandwiches and chips. "I figured you probably hadn’t eaten yet."

Daniel took the offered drink, sipped it and gave Jack a small smile.

"See, what did I tell you? Best around." Jack sat opposite Daniel and tasted his drink as well. He avoided looking directly at Daniel as the weight of the room pressed in on both of them.

Daniel stared out at the storm, howling winds and swirling snow, yet something warm relaxed deep inside of him. He looked back at Jack, who was doing his best to examine a potato chip.

"Jack."

‘Hmm?"

"Jack?"

"Daniel?"

Daniel raised the mug of hot chocolate and whispered. "Thank you."

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, "You’re welcome."


	20. Chapter 19

He registered the cool cloth on his forehead before he discerned the meaning of the words spoken to him. Daniel’s eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at Jack. Watching his friend’s mouth work the words, feeling the cloth soothe the perspiration on his brow, Daniel lay exhausted from the onset of the flashback that warped into a full blown seizure.

The words floated down to him, seemed to be like broken butterflies flitting about his face and head. He murmured some words of his own, but his mouth refused to form any sounds.

"Now, that was a good one." The words finally materialized with meaning. "First a flashback and just for shits and giggles a seizure on top of it."Jack kept talking, knowing Daniel needed something to grab onto mentally in order to recover more quickly. "I know that hockey isn’t your thing, Daniel, but really pulling out the big guns with a seizure was just uncalled for."

Daniel tried to smile and wondered if he pulled it off at all. Jack dabbed at his face with the cloth, then slid his arm underneath Daniel’s shoulders. Slowly, Jack eased Daniel up to a sitting position. 

"Water,"Jack said and offered Daniel a small glass of water.

Daniel only nodded, his mouth was barely working but the water felt good on his throat. He tried to swallow but his throat rebelled and he coughed. Jack rubbed the back of his neck, calming him.

"Take it easy, slow, slow. You know that’s what the doc said."

Daniel nodded, sipping and finally swallowing. The moments before the flashback came back, he’d been laughing with Jack. Laughing. He groaned. 

"Okay?"

Daniel closed his eyes and nodded. He hoped he didn’t do anything to his stump. The workouts for the prosthesis had taxed him but he didn’t want any setbacks due to injuring his stump.

"Your leg looks okay,"Jack said, as if reading his mind.

"Stump,"Daniel managed to say, noticing he was rubbing his stump.

"That’s what I said, your leg looks okay."

"No, stump,"Daniel grimaced. "Not a leg, just a stump."

"No, Daniel, a leg. A stump is part of a tree."

Daniel said nothing, knowing that he had nothing more than a stub of a limb, like a tree battered in a storm. He knew what Jack was trying to do, appreciated it more than he'd ever be able to express. Jack made him feel whole.

"Any better?"

 

He gulped a bit more of the water. "Yes, a bit." He coughed again. 

 

"Bad flashback?"Jack asked as he struggled to stand. Daniel recognized the wince as the older man stood on abused knees. 

 

Daniel shook his head, not wanting to think about it. The pain seemed too real, as if he’d just experienced it, as if the mutilation of his face, his body had just happened. "Forget it."

 

Jack went to the kitchen, leaving Daniel for a moment to rest on the floor of the living room space. Daniel glanced at the television. It was off, though the last thing Daniel remembered before the darkness of his visions took him that the television had been on. How long had he been taken by the flashback, how long had the seizure tortured his body? 

 

Jack brought his wheelchair into the room, maneuvering it around the furniture. "Come on, I’ll help you clean up."

Tears blocked Daniel’s vision as Jack grabbed him under the arms and helped him into the chair. Daniel noted that Jack had placed a towel on the seat of the chair. The seizures had gotten worse, so much so that Daniel often lost control of his bladder. He hated it, hated how his body was literally falling apart, hated how he knew deep inside his Trainer had won.

 

"I’m fully capable of cleaning myself, Jack." Daniel shrugged Jack off him; then rolled the chair down the narrow hall.

 

"Welcome back,"Jack said, his tone light.

 

Daniel pursed his lips, knowing full well that Jack had used the bath to prod Daniel back to reality. Sometimes, Jack was a real bastard. It took Daniel sometime to get himself cleaned, but it always did when he bathed. When he finally finished and wheeled himself into the bedroom, Jack had his clothes laid out on the bed for him, once again causing Daniel to roll his eyes. He smiled, a bastard, but a lovable one. 

 

As he moved about the room, Daniel stretched out his shoulders and rubbed at the back of his neck. Even as he thought of Jack pulling out his clothes for him, Daniel forced himself to disengage, not think about Jack, forget Jack, forget it.

Daniel pulled on his clothes and then got back into the chair by climbing up the chair to the seat. He routinely dressed sitting on the floor, it was just easier. Reaching down, he released the brake and, as he turned the chair to go back to the living room Jack stopped him by blocking the hallway.

 

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "You know, I’m not stupid."

 

"Could have fooled me,"Daniel said.

 

"Funny."

"Your seizures aren’t getting any better."

 

Daniel looked away to the window. It was almost Spring; he could feel it.

 

"Actually, they’re getting worse. The meds aren’t working at all,"Jack continued. "Flashbacks are coming more often, too."

 

Daniel opened his mouth to protest, but Jack raised a finger.

 

"The flashbacks, the seizures, they’re worse when I’m around, aren’t they?"

 

Bowing his head, Daniel didn’t answer. He had flashbacks since he came back from Velera. He learned to live with them; he learned to keep himself safe from them. Safe. He shivered, he knew what it meant, Safe meant hopeless. 

 

"I have flashbacks all the time, Jack, ever since I came back."

 

"When you were living alone?"

 

He wanted to say yes, because that was the truth. He suffered from flashbacks since the whole debacle, but they were worse now, progressively so. It seemed as his life changed toward a more normal one his body rebelled, as if it wanted to stay in a constant state of hell.

 

"Yes, sometimes."

 

"Not as much?"

 

"Not as much,"Daniel admitted. Maybe one a month, he thought but did not voice it.

 

"And the seizures? Did you have seizures?"

 

Daniel lowered his head and shook it. "No, not since I left the SGC. I had some when I first came back, but not since. Not until..."

Jack considered him, arms still folded as he leaned against the doorjamb.

 

"You’re rubbing your neck again."

 

Daniel stopped, curled his fingers and hid his hand in his lap. 

 

"Listen, Daniel,"Jack entered the room and sat on the bed. "I want to call Sam."

 

"Sam?"

 

"The doctors can’t help you; you’ve had your head examined. You’ve been through therapy and it isn’t getting much better. Callie already said there's nothing more she can do."

 

"Worse," Daniel stated. Jack didn’t know how many more flashbacks, tiny flashbacks that were coming like blinking lights that distracted him. Images, pain, and helplessness took over him for a few seconds every hour. 

 

"I think we need to pull out the big guns. We need to have Sam come in and do some research on this,"Jack pointed to Daniel’s hand that found its way back to his neck. "Something is wrong, off."

 

"Your spidey sense telling you that?"

 

"You got that right."

 

"The SGC didn’t find anything when I came back from Velera," he said bitterly. "Not like they cared."

 

"Daniel, we care, I care." He placed his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. "Let me call Sam. She’s got some new wonder tools and instruments that might be able to find out if there is anything they missed."

 

Putting his hands over his face, Daniel took a breath. The weight of facing his former life pressed down on him, nearly drew him closer to another flashback. He breathed through it, trying to calm himself. Daniel focused on the weight of Jack’s hand on his shoulder, instead. With his support, maybe Daniel could do this, maybe he could face what was, what would be?

 

He dropped his hands in his lap. "Sure, okay, sure."

 

Jack leaned closer to Daniel, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. "Good, I’ll call her tonight."Jack held onto Daniel until he stopped shivering. He stood then, went to the doorway but turned and said, "Leg, Daniel, you have two legs, not a stump and leg. Two legs, remember that."  
Daniel nodded, keeping quiet, keeping the hope to himself folded inside so that the shadows of Velera couldn’t darken it.

Like any student of the so called hard sciences, Samantha Carter knew the mechanics of things, so Daniel wasn’t surprised when the two motorcycles pulled up outside Paul’s main house and she took off her helmet only to freeze her face in a smile unbecoming of her grace. One of the things Daniel cherished about Sam was her trueness to character. But even she had a line, a limit which she could not handle the truth of reality. When she glimpsed his face, his mutilated body for the first time in the flesh, Daniel saw a wall fall over her eyes and her smile a fakery of its usual beauty. He drew in a deep breath as not to react to her reaction-less crime. Was it a crime to pretend everything was okay?

It was Teal’c riding the second bike, who brought the moment some ease. As he pulled off his helmet and bowed slightly to Daniel and Jack as they stood on the porch, a slight apology shifted through his features.

"It is with humility that we arrive, Daniel Jackson. Humility and to beg forgiveness of obvious failures,"Teal’c stated. He did not move as he awaited Daniel’s reply.

Daniel stared at him, then back to Sam. She had relaxed a degree and with that action, the veil over her expression lifted to show the pain and shame now achingly apparent. 

Teal’c had always saved SG-1 in some way, shape or form. You could always count on him.

Jack placed a hand on the small of Daniel’s back and helped him navigate down the steps with his crutches. Officially, the doctors still wanted him in the wheelchair, but with the dawn of Spring and the fresh air Daniel could not wait to finally get his new prosthetic—well if the damned seizures ever stopped and find freedom again.

As they approached the duo on the bikes, Jack said, "Don’t tell me you biked it all the way from Colorado?"

"Indeed, we did not,"Teal’c said, then added. "We biked it, O’Neill, all the way from area 51."

"Geez, that must have been one hell of a trip!"

With a sidelong glance only characteristic of the Jaffa to Sam, Teal’c nodded and said, "Indeed, it was."

The insanity of it all hit Daniel and he smiled, real and true to his friends. Sam walked over to him and leaned to his marred cheek to give him a quick peck. She whispered in his ear, "God, Daniel."

He let drop one of his crutches and instantly Jack was bracing him. Daniel wrapped an arm around Sam and held her to him, his eyes closed and the terribleness of it all – how it broke apart their world-- rolled over him like the battering of a storm. She clutched him to her and they stood there frozen. Jack holding on to him to keep him from falling and Teal’c – as always – in sentinel mode over them. How he missed them all, how he ached for them all, how he lost them all washed through him.

Sam tore herself away first, bent and picked up his crutch. He adjusted the crutch and thanked her. She smiled that dazzling smile again and he couldn’t help but remember the first time he met her. He lowered his head and recalled the Captain Doctor of those innocent days.

"We could," she started, pointing to the bikes. "We could go on a ride?"

"You just got here. Why don’t you rest for a bit?"Jack said.

"It might be nice to go on a ride,"Daniel murmured.

Jack shook his head. "Let them rest a while, wild man."

Daniel nodded, "Sure, good."

"I promise, we’ll ride,"Sam touched his shoulder. 

"Let’s go inside, we got some lemonade,"Jack said.

"What about a beer?"Sam climbed the steps, stopping as she watched Daniel do the same. She was smart enough to give him room and to allow him to do it himself instead of taking pity on him and offering a hand.

"I was talking about hard lemonade."

"Even better!"Sam smiled. 

"I will, of course, decline your offer, O’Neill."

"Don’t feel bad, Teal’c, I can’t have any either. With all the meds the doctors have me on, I can’t chance any alcohol. Plain old regular lemonade is what’s on the menu for me."Daniel shuffled to a chair in the main room and sat. He waved them to sit.

"Siler should be here with the truck in just a few days,"Sam said.

"Siler?"Daniel gripped the arm of the chair. "Truck?"

 

Sam glanced at Jack then back to Daniel. "I had a truck equipped with some of our most advanced medical equipment. At area 51 some of the clinicians have done wonders with brain imaging down to the nanoparticle."

 

"Clinicians?"Daniel shook his head. "No, Sam. I thought this was just you. You and Teal’c. I don’t want some clinicians from area 51 using me as their latest science project."

 

"It will be just me. Siler is only driving the truck, and you know you can trust him. You can trust Teal’c and me." Sam folded her hands in her lap, leaning forward to convince him. "We’re not here as part of a weird science project. We’re here to help you, make things better."

 

"Better,"Daniel said and then the world narrowed, grayed. He reached out briefly, panicked as a numbness flushed from the base of his neck through his extremities. He barely gasped out, "Can’t breathe." He felt himself toppled over, saw Jack jump to his side as the world pulsed around him.

 

The seizure took him in waves, though it was different this time. In a nearly catatonic state Daniel watched as his body jerked and violently kicked out. He felt his lungs freeze into hard sacs in his chest, unwilling and unable to expand to bring in a breath. Sounds crashed around him wrestling for resonance. He heard words screamed out into a long dark tunnel.

"He isn’t breathing,"Jack yelled out. Words answered him, echoing and frightening all at once.

"I don’t know, how the hell should I know,"Jack answered. Jack held Daniel’s face, looking into his eye, and begged, "Daniel, breathe, breathe!"

"Sir, sir."The words of an angel sang in his head.

"His lips are turning blue! Jesus!"Jack said. Grasping his head, Jack stared into Daniel’s face. "Breathe."Jack slammed a fist into his chest. The impact exploded in his sternum but did nothing to elicit a response to his petrified lungs. Jack pressed his mouth to Daniel’s and breathed.

He felt the life suffuse into his starved airways, felt it warm his soul, but his lungs remained paralyzed, paralyzed as the word ‘better’ repeated in his brain. A better life. He would never have a better life, he was not world a better life. His trainer told him, taught him he was worth nothing. He deserved nothing.

"Isn’t working!"Jack punched his chest again and he heard a slight pop, but still nothing motivated his lungs, his soul to life.

"Sir, let me."

A whine sounded, then a shock hit him. His lungs thawed and suddenly, painfully expanded as air filled them. The pain was astounding but the joy of breathing overwhelmed him. He cried out as Jack gathered him in an embrace.

"Crap, you scared the shit out of me."

"Out, out – of – y-ou?"Daniel stammered the words, forming them with gasps. "Sc-scared my-myself."

Teal’c leaned over him and handed him a glass of water.

Gratefully, he gulped it down but nearly spit it all up as he tried to calm his aching airways and throat. 

"That was no ordinary seizure,"Jack said, sitting back against the couch. The energy drained out of him as he paled. "That was not right."

"Wh-what ab-out this –is?"Daniel rubbed his chest, he was going to have a nice bruise.

"No, it wasn’t ordinary," Sam kneeled next to Daniel and pulled out a pen light, shining it in Daniel’s eye. It was the first time he noticed the absolute silence of the house. She read his mind. "I had Teal’c go throw the main breaker. Sorry it took so long, we had no idea where it was."

"The breaker, why?"

She looked at Jack. "I stopped Daniel’s seizure with an electromagnetic pulse. A small one, it shouldn’t have affected much of the area just the house. But it worked."

"E-M-P?"The fatigue came over him. He sank down, his bones felt insubstantial.

"Yes," Sam said and turned back to Jack. "It wasn’t an ordinary seizure because it isn’t a seizure at all. I suspect Daniel’s brain has been infected with nano-shells."

"Nano-what?"

Sam stood and put her hands on her hips. "I was able to obtain Daniel’s MRI images. I did some crude manipulations of the images. Some of the clinicians at area 51 have been studying nanoparticles, particularly shells as vehicles of neurological delivery. The shells carry the message to the brain and it leads to an action or a treatment for example." Sam paced as she spoke. "In Daniel’s case I suspect that somehow or another the Velerans infected him with some sort of nano-shells."

"Not cytes? Not nanocytes?"

"No, shells or particles. These aren’t little self replicating robots like we’ve seen before. These are package delivery systems with a finite lifespan. Eventually the nano-shells infecting Daniel’s system will dose out."

"Dose out?"Jack asked.

"Be used up."

"That’s good right?"Jack smiled and gripped Daniel’s leg. 

"Once they are all consumed, they will not be able to harm Daniel Jackson anymore."

Sam didn’t answer right away. In that moment, that instant, Daniel knew.

"No, that’s not the end point."Daniel whispered. "It’s a suicide package."

"What? Suicide?"Jack glanced from Sam back to Daniel. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sam took in a deep breath. "The endpoint of the nanoparticles are to kill Daniel."

"Kill him?" Daniel covered Jack's hand with his own at the sound of Jack's panic.

"It's going to happen again," Daniel said. "And again. Until it kills me." His mouth went dry.

"No." Jack stood up, began pacing. "It's not going to kill you because Carter here is going to stop it."

Daniel glanced at Sam. She looked at him, gave him a sad smile. 

"Sir."

"You're going to fix him," Jack said.

"I don't know how to stop it." Sam said. "I'll do my best to find a way, but..."

"No buts," Jack ordered. "You do it."

"Jack." Daniel kept his voice calm although his heart was pounding. "It's okay."

"No, Daniel, it is not fucking okay." 

"Yes. Yes it is." Daniel patted the couch. "Sit down. You're making me dizzy and I don't feel like getting up right now." He waited until Jack sat beside him and then twined Jack's fingers with his. "I can't keep living like this. It's nearly constant, flashbacks, increasing seizures. I'm tired."

 

"You want to die?" Jack turned on him, and Daniel saw the gleam of tears in Jack's eyes.

"Of course not. But I also don't want to keep living like this. And you tell me, what would have happened had this been at night when you were asleep? Or Sam not been here?" Daniel held his hand to Jack's cheek, not caring if Sam or Teal'c saw. "I don't want to leave you. Not now. Not after everything. But I can accept it."

Jack shook his head under Daniel's hand. "I can't."

"Being with you, and now with Sam, with Teal'c—it's making things worse. If I were to go away, far from you, from everyone I ever knew, ever loved, I think it would stop." He glanced at Sam for confirmation.

"It appears the shells are somehow triggered by proximity to people Daniel knew from the SGC," Sam said.

"And I don't want that. I would have months ago, but now...," Daniel said. "I can't go back to being alone again."

"Why would the Velerans care about something like that?" Jack asked. "Why would their government wanted you to not have contact with the SGC?"

"I do not believe the Velerans were behind the nano-shells," Teal'c said. "Kinsey did not want DanielJackson at the SGC."

"Kinsey," Jack muttered. "Bastard."

"You think it was all a set-up?" Daniel asked even as he realized the truth. "Kinsey provided the nano-shells?"

"I think Kinsey would have done anything to be rid of you," Jack said, his voice tight and his hand gripping Daniel's so hard it hurt.

"Then there are others," Sam said. "From Area 51." She sounded sick. "He had help."

"We'll get them, Carter." Jack stood abruptly. "Who can you trust there, Carter? Who can root them out?"

 

Sam smiled grimly. "I hate to admit this—and you can't ever let him know I said this, but Rodney McKay. He'll find them." 

"So what do we do about..."Jack gestured at Daniel's head. "Does it help that the nanowhatevers came from Area 51?"

"It might. I'm going to need to talk to McKay—I have a few ideas I want to bounce off of him." Sam bounded to her feet, her expression determined.

"Dog with a bone, our Carter," Jack whispered in Daniel's ear. 

Daniel let out a snort at that, feeling the slightest bit of hope, and suddenly felt exhausted. He yawned and Jack immediately turned solicitous.

"You wanna go lie down in the bedroom?"

Daniel shook his head. "Outside." The cottage suddenly felt too small, too crowded with fear and anxiety.

"I will accompany you, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said and waited while Daniel got in his wheelchair.

"Thanks," Daniel said and moved to the porch where he could hear the ocean and let the sound wash over him, calming his wildly beating heart.

* * * *  
"You've got a plan, Carter?" Jack asked. He kept his voice low now that Daniel had finally gone to bed and was sleeping.

"I don't think you are going to like it, sir." She worried her lower lip, refused to meet his eyes.

"Why don't you let me know and then I'll tell you," Jack said. He gestured for her to sit.

"Rodney agrees with me," Sam said as if that meant something. "Well we kind of both came up with it together."

"Doctor McKay never agrees with Colonel Carter," Teal'c added.

"Okay. So..." Jack motioned for her to get on with it.

"The end result of the shells is to kill Daniel," Sam said. "They will dose out at that point, not before." She waited a moment, watching to see if Jack was following.

"Oh shit," Jack said.

"We need to trick them into thinking Daniel's dead." Sam said, her hands showing the slighest tremor. "If he has another seizure like today..."

"We have to what? Let it take its course?" Jack leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees. "And what happens when he doesn't come back?"

"I believe we can induce a seizure. I believe we can bring him back." 

"Damn it, Carter, we nearly didn't bring him back today."

"We'll have the medical equipment in the truck Siler's bringing," Sam said. "You already said Daniel's not going to accept anyone else from the SGC, but I was thinking we can have Doctor Warner on the phone—sir, I don't see any other way to cure Daniel."

Jack nodded. "Daniel needs to agree to all of this."

Sam took a shaky breath. "I know, sir." 

"Barring any delays, Siler will arrive on Thursday," Teal'c added. "You will have until that time to convince Daniel Jackson of the wisest course of action."

One day, Jack thought. Either way, it was only one day.


	21. Chapter 20

Jack was surprised at how readily Daniel agreed to Carter's plan. He'd expected some sort of argument or pure plain obstinance. But perhaps Daniel was just too tired to fight any longer.

"I want it over," Daniel said as he and Jack sat on the porch later in the day, Jack resting his hand on Daniel's forearm unable to resist touch.

Jack said nothing, only watched as Daniel looked out at the ocean. 

"You think we could walk down there? To the beach?" Daniel asked. "One..."

"Do not say it." Jack said. "It is not the last time. It's gonna work. Carter and McKay's plan is gonna work." But Daniel wouldn't look at him even as he reached for his crutches and started on his way.

Jack resisted the urge to hover as he followed Daniel's progress down the familiar path. There hadn't been a seizure or even a flashback today, he told himself. Maybe that last doozy had knocked all of those nano-shells out of his skull.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Daniel said as Jack came to his side. "And no matter what happens it's always there. On and on, tides rise, tides fall."

Jack looked at Daniel—at a face grown immeasurably dear to him, scars or no scars. His throat felt strangely tight. 

"There's something...comforting...about that."

Daniel looked at peace, Jack realized. At peace and ready to accept whatever fate he was dealt. 

"I love you," Jack said, shocked when the words came out his mouth. Words that had been there for years and never spoken except for that moment in the hospital when Daniel had been drugged up and waiting for surgery.

Daniel turned to him, his face registering surprise, and then of all things, joy. Daniel smiled—a true smile that Jack hadn't seen from him since he'd found him the previous summer. A smile he hadn't seen in years.

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah," Jack said. He cupped his hand on Daniel's neck and Daniel leaned into him, fit against him perfectly. Jack brought his lips to Daniel's. Kissing Daniel felt right. Right in a way Jack hadn't known.

"Why the hell did we wait so long?" Jack murmured.

"I guess we were both slow learners." Daniel initiated the next kiss and then he dropped his crutches, hanging onto Jack, holding him.

Jack held on tight, as if by doing so he could stop time, prevent what was coming. 

Daniel tilted his head back, studied Jack's face. "You know if I don't...if we don't...there is no chance of a future at all. Listen to me. You need to let it happen as it will." Daniel brought up his hand, his thumb rough against Jack's cheek as he wiped away tears Jack hadn't known he was shedding. "It's gonna be okay. No matter what happens, it's going to be okay. I promise."

Jack buried his face into Daniel's neck. Please God, let it be okay.

* * * * 

Jack didn't sleep. He sat on the bed next to Daniel and watched him sleep. For once, Daniel's sleep was unbroken, peaceful as if his body was preparing for the upcoming fight.

He heard the low murmurs as Teal'c and Carter spoke in the living room but couldn't bring himself to leave Daniel. Daniel had insisted on the bedroom window being open and the sound of the ocean permeated the room. Tides rise, tides fall—and no matter what would go on. So would Daniel. Jack was not going to let him go. He thought back to Daniel's quiet words of comfort, of strength. It's gotta be okay, Jack told himself. 

* * * *

There was a change in Daniel's breathing and Jack watched as Daniel's left arm began to tremble. 

"Carter," Jack called as the tremors spread from one arm to the other, to a full blown seizure. He tried to keep the panic from his voice as Daniel stopped breathing.

"Keep breathing," he chanted. "Fight it."

Carter and Teal'c came in the room. 

"Siler's not here," Jack yelled at them—fear driving him. "What do we do? Carter, what..." He looked at her and knew the answer. If there was any hope of Daniel being free of the shells Kinsey had ordered to be injected into him, they had to let this play out.

Daniel's body contorted—only his head and left heel in contact with the bed before falling and then rising again. Teal'c sat down on Daniel's other side, protection from him falling from the bed.

The seizure stopped and Jack stroked back Daniel's sweaty hair as Daniel opened his eyes. 

"Hey," Jack told him. "You had a seizure."

Daniel blinked and let out a grunt and then began to seize again. 

Jack lost track of the time—seizure, brief relief, and then another seizure—each seemingly more violent than the previous one had been. His focus narrowed to Daniel, touching him, talking to him even though Jack had no idea if any words were heard or understood. He was vaguely aware of Carter on the phone with someone, Paul showing up at some point, and Teal'c moving Daniel to the floor of the living room after he and Jack hadn't been able to prevent him from falling off the bed.

And then...a seizure ended and Daniel lay still. Still—and Jack realized that unlike the other times, this time Daniel was not opening his eyes, seeking Jack's presence. For a moment Jack thought Daniel had fallen asleep and then realization dawned. Daniel was not breathing. He looked at Carter, her fingers pressed against Daniel's neck, checking for a pulse. 

She shook her head. 

"So what...what happens now?" Jack wasn't sure it was his voice that sounded so broken and lost. He threaded his fingers in Daniel's hair, the need to keep contact grounding him. 

"I don't know, sir." Carter's expression was bleak.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" 

"If Sergeant Siler had arrived, Colonel Carter would have had the supplies needed."

"I know that," Jack said. "But I thought..." He shook his head. "I thought..." He couldn't finish, unashamed by the tears he could feel in his eyes.

"It can't end like this," Paul said from somewhere in the room. "Not when he's come so far."

No, it couldn't. "Carter, do something," Jack ordered.

"Sir, I..."

"This is not happening," Jack said. He bent down, opened Daniel's mouth, prepared to start breathing for him. He looked up at the other members of SG-1. "CPR. You were gonna start his heart with something. We don't have it. So CPR."

"No," Sam said. We have to let...we have to wait."

"He's dying," Jack insisted.

"And so are the nano-shells," Teal'c said. "We must allow this to take its course."

"Jack." Paul knelt next to him, put his hands over Jack's. "Let him...let him go."

Jack closed his eyes, sank back onto his butt. He shook his head. Damn it, no. He shook off Paul's hands, touched Daniel once again, letting himself trace the planes of Daniel's face. "I'm so sorry. So very sorry."

Carter said something in a low voice. Teal'c and Paul rose and followed her from the room.

Jack couldn't take his eyes off Daniel. There was no longer the look of burdens long borne, no longer pain, no longer sorrow. Only peace. Jack let his fingers rest against the scar on Daniel's cheek. They'd failed him—not only two years ago but now, and Jack vowed that everyone responsible for the whole debacle would be held accountable. He moved his hand to Daniel's chest and rocked back when he felt movement under his hand.

Daniel let out a gasp.

"Carter!" Jack yelled before turning his full attention back to Daniel. It could have been some sort of...no...no...Daniel's chest continued to move under his hand, slow and steady. His hands began to shake.

"He's breathing," Jack said as Carter knelt next to him. "He is breathing."

"There's a pulse," Sam said. "I don't know how but there's a pulse."

"Danny," Jack said, trying to rouse him. "You with us?"

There was no response other than the continued breaths.

"Teal'c, get me a flashlight," Sam said. She nodded her thanks when one was handed to her. She lifted Daniel's left eyelid, shone the light and then moved it away before flashing it again in Daniel's eye. She looked up with a frown and then pinched the inside of Daniel's arm.

Jack felt his heart sink when there was no response, not even a flinch. "What? He's breathing, right? He should be coming back."

"Recoveries from the seizures will take time," Teal'c said. "Perhaps we should move Daniel Jackson to the bedroom."

"Yeah, yeah, good idea," Jack stood up. Anything to make him feel he was doing something. Making some sort of difference.

* * * *

Jack could hear Carter speaking to someone on the phone while he sat on the bed by Daniel's side. He'd cleaned Daniel up, put him in clean and dry sweats and not once had Daniel shown any awareness of what was being done. Helpless, Jack talked and always, always he reminded Daniel of how much he was loved.

"Sir." Carter came to the door. "I need to speak with you." She motioned to the hallway.

"I will stay with Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said and took Jack's place when Jack stood. He too began to speak to Daniel in low tones.

"I've been speaking to the SGC," Carter said when Jack joined her. "Giving Doctors Warner, Lam, and Beckett updates on Daniel."

"And." Jack motioned for her to continue when she hesitated.

"They all agree that if it's possible there's damage."

"Brain damage," Jack said. "That's what you mean."

"Sir, they recommend medical transport to the SGC on your orders."

"Did Daniel's medical directives get purged when Kinsey played his little game?" Jack asked. When Carter looked at him in question, he continued, "I've got his medical power of attorney—I'm sure Hammond has a copy of it in his possession too—and it's very clear that Daniel wants no heroic measures in the case of irreversible damage."

"We don't know that things are irreversible. We don't even know if there is brain damage. All we know right now is that Daniel isn't waking up."

"Carter, he's not responding to anything. What do you think it means?" Jack hit his fist against the wall.

"He's breathing on his own. Sir, plea..." She stopped at the yelling coming from the living room along with a slammed door.

* * * *

 

"I told him he couldn't just barge in." Thom's voice carried over the others.

"And I told you Sam Carter needs me here." Another voice carried even louder.

"Rodney," Sam said as she went into the living room, Jack on her heels.

"Hi Sam. So, I figured you'd need my help." Rodney McKay said. He nodded in Jack's general direction. "General. You want to tell these two I actually know what I'm doing."

"McKay." Jack took in the scene. Thom Reilly looked overwhelmed at McKay's force, Paul stood guarding the doorway. 

"It's okay," he said to the other two men. "Maybe you two could go, um, make some breakfast or lunch or whatever meal we should be having?"

Paul nodded, caught Jack's meaning. Not for Thom's eyes or ears. "C'mon, babe. Let's go see what we can rustle up. Maybe go to the market."

"You want to tell me what you're doing here, Rodney?" Sam asked.

"I brought supplies—and information."

"But how..."

"General Hammond believed my plan so..." Rodney waved his hand, "Air Force transport and then I drove here."

"Except you're too late," Jack said. "Daniel already did the seizure thing-y, the dying thing-y, and the coming back to life thing-y."

"That's good isn't it?" Rodney looked from Jack to Sam.

"No," Sam said. "Daniel's unresponsive. Has been for hours."

McKay put down the bag he carried and then rummaged for something. "Maybe this will help?" 

"Shit," Jack said as McKay held up a Tok'ra healing device.

Sam took it with shaking hands. "Sir, I can...if there is brain damage, this will..."

 

Jack nodded. "Yeah." He nodded and Carter took off down the hall.

"You can thank me later," McKay called after her with a smirk on his face.

* * * *

"Hey there," Jack said as he sat down on the bed beside Daniel. A barely coherent but apparently undamaged Daniel. "You with me?"

"Uh," Daniel said. He waved his hand aimlessly before Jack captured it in his own. "Sleepy."

"Yeah, that's good." Jack touched Daniel's cheek and smiled when Daniel turned to him. "You have plenty of time to rest."

"Uh huh," Daniel murmured and drifted into sleep.

Jack stretched out beside him, placed one hand on Daniel's chest to feel his heart beat, and kept the other entwined with Daniel's. 

* * * *

Daniel was aware of Jack, Sam, and Teal'c at his side. He would wake and one of them was always there with a reassuring touch, with a soft word or two. He remembered Paul coming in the room one time and felt hot tears on his skin. There was someone else there—someone loud who he'd hear arguing with Sam—and he thought one time that person came in the room and stood by him quietly but as so many moments it seemed to drift away in the mist.

Wind howled around the cottage and Daniel opened his eyes to the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Jack was stretched out on the bed next to him, sound asleep. Daniel frowned at the worry that still marked Jack's face even in sleep. He placed his hand against Jack's cheek, smoothed the lines away. It was a testament to Jack's exhaustion that he didn't respond other than a soft snore. Daniel became aware of two pressing needs—his bladder and his stomach. He rolled to his side and stood with the help of his crutches. 

He took care of his bladder first and then looked at the shower longingly. His muscles ached—deep—and he itched from dried sweat. He felt surprisingly steady and nodded. Shower, and then some sort of food. He sat on the toilet and unwrapped the pressure bandage on his stump. The staples had come out a few weeks back and for all intents and purposes the stump was as good as it was going to get.

He leaned over and started the shower, sighing at the warm water on his fingers. He grasped the bar in the shower as he swung himself in and stood for a few moments, just enjoying the water cascading down his body. He tilted his head back. The water pounding his back, his temples felt so very very wonderful. He heard the door open and then heard Jack.

"Want some company?" Jack asked in a sleep roughened voice. 

Daniel's heart beat a bit faster at the comment and his mouth went suddenly dry. "Um yeah."

He heard a low chuckle and then there was cool air as Jack opened the shower curtain and just as quickly closed it.

 

 

"How are you feeling?" Jack asked as he stood behind Daniel, his chin resting on Daniel's shoulder.

"I..." He turned his head slightly to place a kiss on Jack's hair. "It's all over isn't it? Sam was there and...warmth and light..." It was all mixed up but yet Daniel knew the nightmare was over.

"It's over," Jack whispered even as his shoulders started to shake. "You're here. It's over."

Daniel somehow managed to turn and still keep his balance. He grabbed hold of the bar in the tub and held onto Jack with his other arm. "I'm here," he repeated again and again. "I'm here."

In time the tremors and the tears stopped and Jack looked up at him with reddened eyes. He gave a half-hearted grin. "That was kind of... embarrassing."

Daniel shook his head. "Harder on you than on me, I think. I mean, I slept through it all, right?" His laugh fell short.

Jack brought both hands up and cupped Daniel's face. "I love you, Daniel Jackson." He kissed Daniel hard, pulled him closer. 

Daniel let go of the bar and held onto Jack, his breath coming in harsh pants. "I love you. Oh God, Jack," he moaned as Jack pressed against him.

"Let me, let me..." Jack pushed Daniel back against the wall of the shower. "Please."

"Yes," Daniel said. He let Jack turn him around and felt Jack's fingers at his opening. "Yes." He arched back into Jack as Jack's fingers entered. He could feel tears come to his eyes as he and Jack moved together. It felt so right. No, not just felt. It was right. Right in a way it hadn't been with Paul. Jack shuddered against him—even as Daniel did the same.

"Thank you," Jack said into his ear. "Love."

Daniel breathed hard, his own body still shuddering with the after-effects of Jack's ministrations. He didn't want to move—wanted to stay here and just...be. He felt...ha, he told himself—a linguist lacking words—he felt alive. He grinned and then realized Jack had moved again—and was grabbing the shower gel.

"Let me do this," Jack said. "I've waited so long."

Daniel nodded and vowed that when Jack finished, he'd return the favor. Jack's fingers were strong and Daniel sighed in contentment as he shampooed Daniel's hair. 

"You like that?" Jack asked.

"Mmm." Daniel's ability to speak seemed to be melting away with the force of the massage.

Jack had touched his body before-even seen him naked at times over the past months, but when Jack knelt in the shower and began to wash the stump, Daniel heard himself whimper.

"Did I hurt you?" Jack looked up, alarmed. "I'm sorry. I can..."

Daniel shook his head. "No. I..." To his horror, he felt tears begin to spill. How could he explain what it felt like to have someone treat his body with reverence? "I'm not ugly to you," he said, remembering a conversation days, maybe weeks ago. "I'm not."

Jack said nothing but bent his head to kiss the scar. "Told you so."

And just like that, with one smart-ass remark from one smart-ass general, Daniel's world righted itself with certainty and he found himself laughing with joy.

* * * *

"Nice you could make it, Siler," Jack said while Carter glared at him. 

For his part, Siler ignored Jack and went about setting up the equipment inside the truck. McKay's mouth was going a mile a minute and he kept getting in Siler's way.

"Why don't you let us take care of this, sir?" Carter said. "We'll be ready for Daniel soon."

Daniel didn't look too happy about the whole process a few hours later, Jack thought as he stood next to Daniel in what had somehow been transformed into a lab.

"Nothing will hurt," Carter said. She smiled brightly.

"At least it shouldn't." McKay added. "What?" He grumbled as Carter shot him a look.

Daniel swallowed audibly and then turned to Jack. "Maybe you and Teal'c could, um, go somewhere for awhile?"

"I think that is an excellent idea, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said. He looked innocent when Jack glanced at him.

"Sure," Jack agreed but only because Daniel looked like he was hanging onto control by a thread. He knew Teal'c and Daniel had been up to something when they were talking earlier. He didn't give a damn any longer—he stepped to Daniel's side and kissed him gently. When Carter looked at them, her eyes wide, he smirked back before turning to leave.

* * * *

"You're sure?" Daniel said to Sam. "You're absolutely sure?"

Sam's cheeks hurt from smiling. "I'm sure." She gave Daniel an impulsive hug. "You're clear. They're gone."

Daniel tried to get to his feet and failed. 

"Easy, Doctor Jackson," Siler said and placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder. 

Beside Sam, Rodney cleared his throat, and Sam recognized the other scientist was about to go into full-blown explanation mode, something Daniel didn't need at the moment. 

"Time enough for that later," Sam whispered to him, surprised when Rodney gave a curt nod. 

"I'm...uh...well...if everything is straightened out here, maybe Siler and I should make sure we get this stuff," Rodney gave a sweeping gesture, "back to where it belongs."

Daniel held out his hand to Rodney. "I didn't thank you earlier, Doctor McKay. Teal'c told me you thought of bringing the healing device. Thank you."

Rodney didn't hesitate to shake it and Sam found it oddly comforting that Rodney, of all people, hadn't flinched from any of Daniel's injuries. "You're welcome."

Sam hugged Daniel again, unable to contain herself. "Daniel."

Daniel tightened his arms around her and lowered his head to her shoulder. She felt his smile against her t-shirt. "Sam."

* * * *

"I'll be fine, Jack," Daniel said as he placed the helmet Sam handed him over his head. 

Jack did not look at happy at Daniel's decision to take Sam up on her offer of a motorcycle ride, but he didn't care. He felt alive—ready to experience life once again. 

"Ready?" Sam asked.

Daniel nodded and grabbed hold of her waist. He felt like he was flying as they went down Paul's lane. Sam took a left, heading away from town and picked up speed. The nightmare was over, he told himself. Whatever happened now, he could handle. He knew Jack wanted him to go back to the SGC, knew Sam and Teal'c expected it too, but for now, all he wanted was to experience life. There would be time to think later. He was going to enjoy the ride.


	22. Chapter 21

A few weeks after the "cure" as Daniel had so dubbed it, Jack headed to DC and then to Colorado. He'd told Daniel he'd be unable to phone and Daniel was surprised at how very empty the house felt. Even visiting Paul and Thom some evenings didn't quite banish the loneliness. Luckily his physical therapy appointments tired him out and he finally was able to sleep without the fear of a nightmare or seizure. He knew he'd lost time in his recovery. None of his doctors had been willing to allow him to begin rehab with a prosthesis when the cause of the seizures had been unknown. But now, now, the physical therapists were making him make up all that lost time with a venegance, and Daniel had to admit, his own determination made him push himself as hard as he could.

Jack returned to Cape Cod after two weeks with a grim look on his face and stress in the lines of his body.

"Do I want to know?" Daniel asked. 

"There was some house-cleaning," Jack said. He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache and Daniel moved closer to take over massaging Jack's temples. "Not many people in Kinsey's circle, but even one would have been too many." He covered Daniel's hands with his own. "It should have been none. McKay and Carter rooted out the ones at Area 51. Landry, Hammond, Teal'c and I at the SGC."

"Then...it's over?" Daniel asked. He found it suddenly hard to swallow.

Jack leaned back into Daniel's touch. "Yeah." He slid his hand up Daniel's forearm. "Some changes. I've been transferred back to the SGC permanently. I'm hoping you'll join me."

Daniel pulled away. "I...I can't..." He couldn't make a decision yet. He wasn't ready. He didn't know if he could walk into the mountain even with Jack by his side. He didn't know if he was ready to resume his life as Doctor Daniel Jackson. This cottage meant safety and peace and much to his surprise Jack and love. 

"I can't walk away from this," Jack murmured. Daniel wasn't sure if he meant the SGC or him. And at the moment he was too chicken to ask.

* * * *

Daniel was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive to the rehab facility. Their usual drive was filled with conversation about books they were reading or comments about things the morning DJs were discussing. On this day, however, Daniel looked out the window at the passing scenery while Jack kept sneaking glances at him. Today was The Day as Jack had begun to think of it--the day when Daniel got his first prosthesis--it wasn't the one he'd ultimately have but it was a start. Today, Jack thought, maybe Daniel would get some more of his life back.

* * * * 

"Just how much coffee did you have at breakfast?" Jack looked up from his crossword puzzle at Daniel who sat on the chair beside him.

"Two cups." Daniel didn't even look in his direction.

"Just asking because you're vibrating and I'm sure that it's a caffeine buzz."

Daniel gave him a look of disgust. "It is not. I'm just...it's not."

Jack grinned as the prosthetist and Leann, one of the physical therapists came in the room.. "Least I got your mind off of it for a while, huh?"

"Ready to get started, Daniel?" Ted asked.

Jack watched Daniel lick his lips, take a deep breath, and then nod. He listened and watched Ted explain the parts of the leg and how it worked, even though they'd heard it at one of Daniel's appointments a few days before. He turned his attention to Daniel as he put on a stump sock and then the silicone liner. Daniel's hands were shaking as he reached for the prosthetic, but with Ted and Leann's guidance, Daniel soon had the prosthetic limb on. 

"We're going to stand," Leann said. She instructed Daniel to put his hands on the parallel bars in front of him. Daniel gave a grunt as he stood and Jack couldn't help but smile at the sight of Daniel standing on two feet.

"You okay?" Ted asked. 

"Yeah," Daniel said, but his voice had a slight waver to it. 

Jack heard the other two ask Daniel a bunch of questions about fit and pressure and other things, but he focused on Daniel. Daniel, who was doing his very best not to lose his composure. The signs were all there--Jack recognized them even if the others did not. 

Leann spoke quietly to Daniel as another therapist came over to them. Jack stepped out of the way at the man's quiet request. He moved over to stand against the wall where he could watch Daniel whose full attention was on the people surrounding him. He saw Daniel's hands tighten on the bars and then Daniel took a step forward with the prosthetic. It was awkward and halting but it was a step nonetheless. It seemed to take forever for Daniel to make it to the other end of the bars, and Jack knew then this process wasn't going to be as simple as he'd thought. Daniel sat down in the chair Leann placed, head hanging down and breathing hard. And then he looked up, saw Jack, and smiled. Jack suddenly didn't give a damn if there was an audience. He went to Daniel's side, embraced him despite the sweat soaked t-shirt, and gave him a kiss full on the mouth.

"Jack," Daniel said and pulled away. "Not in public." Daniel's face was reddened from more than exertion, Jack suspected.

"Yeah. Um, sorry." 

"I know," Daniel said. 

Leann cleared her throat and Jack turned to her. "I think maybe I'd better get out of the way."

She smiled and nodded. "We'll be done at noon."

Jack looked at Daniel who gave him a sharp nod. "I'll see you then."

He grabbed his crossword puzzle book and his jacket and left the center. It would be a nice walk to the center of town, so he headed in that direction. Maybe he could find something as a make-up present for Daniel. Much as he wanted to be there, Jack knew the physical therapy would go better if Daniel worked with the therapists alone.

* * * * 

 

Daniel was lowering himself onto a chair when Jack entered the center. Jack grinned as Daniel caught sight of him and smiled. 

Jack nodded to Phyllis, Leann, and Ryan who were still near Daniel. "Hey."

"You about ready to go?" Jack asked Daniel.

"Yeah. I'd like to go change before we leave, though." Daniel gestured toward his damp t-shirt.

"Sure thing," Jack told him. 

"I'll walk with you," Ryan said to Daniel. 

Daniel nodded and got to his feet. Jack watched as he and Ryan made their way towards the locker room.

"He's not using his cane," Jack said to Leann.

She smiled. "No. Not in here at least."

Phyllis said goodbye and Jack stood with Leann alone. 

"So has he graduated?"

Leann laughed. "You'll have to ask him that." She looked at Jack. "You seem concerned."

Jack started to shake his head and then thought better of it. "He seems so tired. Not just when we get home from here, but whenever we've gone for a walk or something."

"Daniel's expending a lot more energy to walk than he did when he had two legs. His stamina will continue to improve."

Jack nodded. "When he first started here, he'd go home and sleep for a couple of hours. Now, not so much." He looked up to see Daniel headed towards him. Daniel's gait wasn't completely natural but he looked comfortable with walking.

******

 

Paul knocked on the wooden door frame and Jack looked up from the book he was reading.

"You guys have any plans for the rest of the day?"

Jack shook his head. "Daniel's fell back asleep, but he'll probably be awake in an hour or so. Is there a problem?"

"Thom and I thought we'd take you out for dinner. Drive up to Provincetown--Thom knows a nice place and there are some shops Daniel would enjoy. A celebration of sorts."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Celebration?"

"We finished the renovations," Paul laughed. "Well at least as much as we can get done for now. We have to save up for the rest." He leaned against the door frame. "And celebration for, well, for Daniel."

"Shit." Jack glanced at the calendar. "He didn't say anything."

"It's Daniel. He never said anything before when someone forgot it was his birthday did he?" Paul pushed away from the door. "I'm guessing he forgot it himself. Let me give a call to the restaurant. I'm sure they'll be able to help out. We'll leave after an early lunch if that's okay?"

Jack nodded as Paul went back out the door and then he carefully marked his place in his book and headed towards the bedroom.

Daniel was sleeping on his back--arms flung wide, his hair wild like it always was every morning. His prosthesis stood by the night stand, and Jack felt a little pang as he looked at it. Water under the bridge, Daniel had said the night before. He and Daniel hadn't talked any more about Jack's impending transfer back to the SGC, but Jack knew better than to push. Much as he loved Daniel, he wasn't going to even attempt to cajole the other man into leaving his newly won peace with all that had happened. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, placed his hand over Daniel's. Daniel gave a little snort and peered at Jack. "Time issit?"

"Nine-ish," Jack said. 

"Nine-ish? Not oh nine hundred something or other?" Daniel asked. He turned his hand palm up and laced his fingers through Jack's before smiling.

"I'm off-duty," Jack grumbled.

"Oh that makes it all the better." Daniel put one hand behind Jack's head and tugged.

"All the better," Jack echoed a fraction of a second before Daniel managed to capture his mouth in a searing kiss. And suddenly it seemed to Jack that he was way way over-dressed. Daniel's hands were under his, working on the buttons of his shirt.

Jack heard one pop and ping off the headboard. He managed to get off his jeans and then placed his hands on the waistband of Daniel's sweatpants. 

"Up," he ordered Daniel who obliged by shifting his hips. He pushed the pants down in between his focus on kissing Daniel like he'd never been kissed.

Daniel responded just as Jack knew he would--passionately and with the single-minded concentration he used to exhibit when on the verge of some new discovery.

"God," Jack said when Daniel lay naked on the bed. He kissed the scars on Daniel's chest, placed kisses on Daniel's closed eyelids. Daniel pushed up, making sure Jack knew exactly just how excited he was.

"Not so fast," Jack said and laughed.

"Ass," Daniel said and slapped his hand across Jack's bottom.

"Why yes, thank you," Jack said. He grabbed the lube from the night table, flipped open the lid with his thumb and generously covered Daniel's cock.

Daniel tugged on Jack's shoulder, pulling him down closer for another kiss. Daniel tasted like salt and coffee and Jack shuddered as Daniel pushed him onto his back, effectively switching their positions. God, he loved this man.

It took a moment for Daniel to find his balance--something they'd worked out over the first tentative time they'd consummated their relationship--and then Daniel was pushing, pushing at him. Jack dug his fingers into Daniel's shoulders, across strong muscles, and let out a yell when Daniel very effectively found his prostate. There were very few things that could reduce Jack to speechlessness, Daniel had figured out most of them. Jack came a few moments after Daniel and then they both lay panting on the bed, neither of them in any mood to bother to get up immediately.

It was Jack who extricated himself and went to the bathroom to get a damp cloth. He cleaned himself first and went back in the bedroom where Daniel smiled up at him. 

"Like it?" 

"What would you do if I said no?" Jack swiped the cloth over Daniel's belly. 

Daniel sighed. "I guess I'd need more practice." He frowned a little.

"Is that supposed to be a pout?" Jack laughed a second before Daniel did.

Daniel grabbed the cloth from him and finished cleaning himself. "I guess I should get up."

"I thought you already were."

"Ha ha. Such a wit," Daniel threw the cloth at Jack. He sat up and then stood by the bed.

"Paul and Thom are taking us up to Provincetown after lunch--said we can celebrate their completing most of the renovations." Jack said as Daniel hopped the few steps towards the bathroom. "They want to leave about noon."

Daniel called back something, but Jack couldn't hear him over the sound of the now running shower. 

Jack grabbed the sheets and blankets off the bed and bundled them up to take to the washer. 

He came back into the bedroom with a set of fresh sheets as he heard the shower shut off. Jack hurriedly made the bed--one of the tasks he'd perfected during his years as a cadet and by the time, Daniel came back into the bedroom, the bed could have appeared in a magazine spread.

"I think we should get Paul and Thom some sort of house-warming present," Daniel said as he went to the dresser. "Even though it's just the completion of the renovations."

"Paul said they aren't done--they need to save up more for the next phase." Jack leaned against the window frame. "So..."

"No, Jack. We are not just getting them a gift card for whatever home-renovation place they are using." Daniel sat down and laid out some stump socks on the comforter. 

"Yes, dear," Jack said. "We'll add it to whatever thingabob you pick out."

Daniel looked at him and shook his head. "You never change." 

Jack shrugged and grinned. He watched as Daniel carefully smoothed one of the socks over his leg before putting on the prosthesis and standing. He shook his head and then took the leg off and added another two socks. 

"What do you think we should get them?" Jack asked as Daniel finished. "I don't want to get them some stupid vase or something like that."

"I guess we'll know it when we see it," Daniel said as he took a few steps before putting on a pair of khaki shorts. 

"Oh and I almost forgot," Jack said and grabbed Daniel by the waist. He kissed him on his neck and felt Daniel shiver. "Happy birthday," he whispered. "Maybe I can give you another present later tonight."

* * * *

Daniel had to admit that the gift certificate to the travel agency was a good choice. He didn't think Paul and Thom got away very often--and after spending a winter on the Cape, Daniel agreed with Jack that maybe just maybe Paul and Thom would enjoy a getaway next winter. He and Jack had separated after the purchase, Daniel headed to some shops with Thom while Jack and Paul were standing drooling over some fishing gear. 

Daniel saw the ring in the window of a jewelry shop--a simple band of white gold engraved with Gaelic. It shouted Jack to him and even though he figured Jack would think he was crazy, he knew he had to buy it. Just as he'd woken the past morning knowing where he belonged. It had been a long time since he felt such certainty.

"It's part of a matching set," the salesclerk told him, bringing out the other ring. They were men's rings--obviously a wedding set. 

He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he told her. "I only need the one. I'll understand if you can't sell it to me, but I'd really appreciate it if you could."

She smiled and excused herself. She came back a few minutes later and quoted him a price for a single ring. Daniel thanked her and purchased it. He slipped the box into the pocket of his shorts.

He'd made his decision and he couldn't wait to tell Jack.

* * * * 

The dinner had been delicious--fresh seafood, caught that very day, and good company. Thom and Paul had said they'd meet Jack and Daniel back at the car a few hours later, and wandered off to visit one of Thom's artist friends. So Daniel and Jack wandered the streets, looking in windows of shops. Daniel touched the box in his shorts pocket more than once, but the moment never seemed right to bring it up. His leg started hurting, and he did his best to hide it, not wanting to ruin the evening.

"There's a bench over there," Jack said and started walking in that direction. "What?" He raised an eyebrow when Daniel looked at him. "You're getting tired."

Daniel shook his head, not in disagreement but in wonderment. "Haven't lost your touch, I see."

Jack shrugged. "What can I say? It's a gift."

Daniel couldn't resist a sigh when they sat down on the bench. He kneaded the muscle above the prosthetic. He caught Jack watching him and stopped. Jack's eyes were hard, his jaw tense.

"Jack." Daniel kept his voice low. 

"Sometimes..." Jack began and then trailed off. He took a deep breath. "Sorry." He forced a smile and then took another deep breath, the tension leaving his shoulders, his face.

"I have something for you," Daniel said. He held out the box. "This and an answer."

Jack looked at him quizzically and tossed the box in his hand. "Diamonds? Daniel, really you shouldn't have."

"Just open it," Daniel told him. "Don't be an ass."

Jack stuck out his tongue but opened the box. He was silent for a long while and Daniel thought he might have just made a huge mistake.

Fools rush in, he told himself. "I thought...I mean...well...oh hell, Jack. I'm going back with you to Colorado. That is if you're willing to..." His words were cut off as Jack pulled him in for a kiss. 

"You're something else," Jack said as they separated and then reached into his pocket and pressed a small box into Daniel's hand. "Open it."

Daniel did and started to laugh. It was the twin to the ring he'd bought Jack. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

Jack handed his ring to Daniel before taking back the one he'd given Daniel. "What does it say?" 

" 'I have spread my dreams under your feet.'" Daniel said. "It's from a poem by William Butler Yeats."

 

Jack grinned and shook his head. "I don't know how you remember all that kind of stuff." He took the ring from the box and took Daniel's left hand in his. "Forever," he whispered as he put the ring on Daniel's ring finger. "Forever and always."

Daniel felt his throat tighten and then took Jack's ring and slipped it onto Jack's finger. "Forever, Jack. Forever."


	23. Chapter 22

Carter and Teal'c met them at the air base. Carter grabbed Daniel into a hug without so much as a word. 

"Welcome home." Jack heard her say over and over. 

When Daniel finally pulled away, Jack could see his face was wet. But he had a broad grin so Jack wasn't too worried. Teal'c inclined his head and said only, "We are glad to have you back where you belong, Daniel Jackson." 

Daniel and Jack sat in the back of Carter's car. The drive to the SGC was mostly silent. As they went through the checkpoint, Daniel gripped Jack's thigh. Jack looked at him in concern--Daniel's face had gone pale, the earlier relaxed look gone.

He placed his hand over Daniel's, their rings glimmering in the light. He felt more than heard Daniel's sigh. Carter and Teal'c sat in the front, oblivious to the small drama taking place in the back seat.

"You ready?" Jack whispered to Daniel when Carter had parked and the two of them were left alone in the car. He wasn't surprised when Daniel nodded. He watched as Daniel visibly pulled himself together and exited the car. 

Daniel's signature on the sign in bore a mere resemblance to what it had been before--Jack didn't want to think about the last time Daniel's name had appeared on the books--the day before he'd left on the ill-fated mission to Velera. Daniel used his left hand for writing now, manipulating a pen difficult with the stubs of his right fingers. Jack supposed technology could be a good thing--Daniel certainly had no trouble typing as fast as he had in the past. 

The ride in the elevator cab was silent, although the tension in the air was a palpable presence. Daniel's eyes were fixed on the digital numbers flashing as they descended into the mountain.

"Okay," Daniel said when it stopped. "Let's do this."

They stepped out of the cab. The hallway was empty--something that surprised Jack. He hadn't expected to be met with a brass band on his and Daniel's return, but there should be personnel at least walking in the hall, going about their business.

"Carter?"

"Sir?" She didn't quite meet his eyes, which told him more than he needed to know.

"A word with you." He motioned for her to stay back as Teal'c and Daniel began to walk along the hall. "A welcoming party for Daniel?"

She looked down at the floor and then back up. "Generals Hammond and Landry ordered all personnel to gather in the Gate room when you arrived." She bit her lower lip. "I can try to..."

Jack shook his head. "Let me." He hurried his pace and took Daniel's arm.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He walked back to stand beside Carter.

"It seems a welcome home party has been planned for you. Everyone is in the Gate room waiting," Jack spoke in a low urgent tone. "Can you handle it?"

Daniel took a deep breath and rubbed at his right leg, unconsciously, Jack thought. He pulled himself tall and straightened his shoulders. "Yeah. Yeah, I can." He gave a small laugh that months ago probably would have been bitter, but now was rueful. "I've handled worse."

Jack didn't say anything else, just clapped Daniel on the shoulder. Asking had been the right thing--even though he really should have been able to guess the answer.

* * * *

"Hammond has a VIP suite set up for us," Jack said hours later as he walked into the briefing room. 

Daniel turned around from his contemplation of the Gate and smiled. "You ready for bed already?"

Jack shook his head. "I thought maybe *you* were tired." He moved to Daniel's side and placed his hand on Daniel's shoulder. "It's been a long day."

"Yeah, it has." Daniel fought the urge to sigh or to scream. He wasn't sure which just quite yet. He kept his eyes fixed on the Stargate, unable to bring himself to look at Jack. "A good day, though." He hoped the words were enough to have Jack understand. 

Jack didn't say anything but his hand tightened for just the briefest moment and then dropped away. 

"I..." Daniel began when he was able to put all the fear and hope into words, "I don't want to lose *us*. I want what we had in Cape Cod. I don't want to lose that." 

"Do you think we will?" Jack asked. Daniel looked down as Jack intertwined his right hand with Daniel's left. The twin rings glinted in the light. "There's a reason I married you."

"Marriage?" Daniel asked, finally looking at Jack.

"Those words we spoke? They meant marriage to me." Jack cleared his throat then.

"And that little pesky detail about married couples serving together..." Daniel trailed off as Jack ran his fingers up Daniel's sleeve.

"Hayes has SG-1 back together again--has Daniel Jackson in the SGC. There might have been certain conditions that needed to be met."

"Oh really?" Daniel said. "Stop that." He waved a hand at Jack who was blowing on his neck.

"Don't tell me you've never wanted to get it on here," Jack said.

Daniel turned to face him. "I have never. At least not here. Not somewhere...public."  
He swallowed hard and turned back to face the Gate. "Everything's changed." There'd be no more trips through the Stargate for him. He'd thought he'd be able to do this, and now standing here, he wasn't so sure. It felt like goodbye even though he'd just said his hellos. He raised his hand, placed it on the window and blinked rapidly. He couldn't figure out why his throat felt so tight. Why his eyes burned. He felt Jack move behind him and then Jack's arms came around him, holding tight. He tensed when he heard other footsteps.

"Carter and Teal'c," Jack whispered in his ear. "It's all right."

Daniel nodded and watched as the Gate blurred beneath the onslaught of tears he couldn't hold back. He was finally home.

* * * *

Jack sat beside Daniel on the bed and worked on a crossword puzzle. Daniel's head was turned towards him, face relaxed in sleep, his right hand laying palm up and open. Jack placed his own hand over it and smiled at Daniel's quiet sigh. He closed the puzzle book, clipped the pen to it and placed it on the bedside table. Jack brought his other hand up to rub at his eyes. It *had* been a long day--and much harder on Daniel than Daniel was willing to admit. But yet, Jack couldn't help believing that coming back was the right choice--for both of them. Stress, he told himself, it was just stress, and Daniel would find his way again, perhaps already had. He'd learned a long time ago to never underestimate one Doctor Daniel Jackson. He reached down and pulled up the blanket that had been pushed to the bottom of the bed, covering both of them more fully. He smoothed away the wrinkles and closed his eyes as he passed his hand over what remained of Daniel's right leg. It was time to lose the regret, he told himself. From this day, there was only the future to look forward to. He took a deep breath and settled down beside Daniel. Daniel gave another sigh and turned, fitting his body next to Jack's. Jack nuzzled the back of his neck and closed his eyes. Daniel had told him the source of the quote on their wedding bands. He supposed he had Sister Mary Simon to thank for his ability to memorize poetry. A year of being forced to memorize and recite had stood him in good stead. 

"Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,  
Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
Of night and light and the half light,  
I would spread the cloths under your feet:  
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."

 

"Good dreams, Daniel," he whispered. "Good dreams."

* * * *


	24. Epilogue

Daniel stood at the base of the ramp, his heart pounding, his stomach doing flip flops so much that he used the deep breathing exercises Callie had taught him more than a year ago. He was sure throwing up just as he was about to step through the Stargate for the first time in years wouldn't go over very well with the powers that be.

Jack stood beside him, dressed in his Class A uniform, Sam stood on his other side, also dressed in hers. Teal'c stood slightly behind, tall and dignified in his Jaffa robes. Daniel reached up and tugged on the tie he wore. Wouldn't want to make a bad impression on the Restalian delegation meeting them on the other side.

"So how does it feel, Ambassador Jackson?" Jack asked. Daniel turned to see him grinning.

He took another deep breath before replying. "Is it wrong of me to say I'm scared shitless?" His memories of Velera had been strong the past few weeks, nightmares he hadn't had for months resurfacing. A desperate phone call to Callie in the middle of the night had reassured him. This time he was in control of his life. As much as he knew the Restalian society was nothing like the Velerans, a small voice kept saying things could go to hell in a handbasket. It was over, he reminded himself and the past was not his future. He was making his own future. He was in control.

The Stargate spun again, and he shivered. Sam touched his shoulder as did Teal'c. 

"You don't need to do this," Jack said then, so softly Daniel wasn't sure even Sam had heard him over the noise of the Gate. It was true. He didn't. Oh, the Restalians had requested that Doctor Daniel Jackson who had helped broker a deal between their trade partners, the Lepar, and the Tau'ri, attend the negotiation sessions in the Restalian capital, but it hadn't been necessary for them to consider the offers the Tau'ri had proposed. It was their understanding that Doctor Jackson no longer traveled through the Stargate, but would he please make an exception? Politeness dictated that it only be a consideration not a necessity. 

Daniel shifted his weight, his stump secure in the socket of his new technologically advanced prosthetic. He turned his head to look at Sam since she stood on his blind side. She smiled at him and then turned her attention back to the Gate. He glanced over his shoulder at Teal'c, who bowed his head in silent support. The wormhole whooshed into existence, and finally he turned to face Jack who looked at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Yes I do," Daniel answered and took his first step onto the ramp and into a new adventure, his team beside him just as they should be.


End file.
